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LIBRARY 


GIVEN  BY 


^..f.B.  nattheurj, 


GENERAL 
HISTORY    OF   CIVILIZATION 

I  N     K  u  n  O  P  E^^ 


FROM     THE    FALL     OF    THE     ROMAN     EMPIRE    TO     THE     FRENCH 
REVOLUTION. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF 

M.     GUIZOT, 

PROFESSOR     OF     HISTORY     TO     LA     FACfLTE     DES     LETTRES     OF      PARIS     AND     MINISTER 
OF    PL'BLIC     INSTRUCTI3N. 


EECOND    AXERICAN   FRO.M    THE    SECOND    ENGLISH   EDITION. 


N  E  W  -  Y  O  R  K  : 

D.   APPLETON    &    CO.,    200    BROADWAY. 
1840. 


aiPT 


University    Press  — John  F.  Trow,    Pr, 

114    Nassau-Btreet. 


TRANSLATOR'S    PREFACE 


It  has  been  somewhere  observed,  that  next  to  the  study  of 
religion,  which  shows  us  our  relations  with  God,  and  how  we  may 
become  citizens  of  an  immortal  kingdom,  the  most  profitable  and 
urgent  duty  of  man  is  the  study  of  politics,  or  his  relations  with 
his  fellow-creatures,  and  the  duties  by  which  he  may  expect  hap- 
piness and  well-being  in  the  terrestrial  kingdom  of  which  he  may 
happen  to  be  a  member.  If  this  be  allowed  to  pass  for  truth,  no 
apology  will  be  required  for  the  attempt  to  bring  within  the  power 
of  the  English  reader  the  following  lectures  of  Professor  Guizot, 
calculated,  as  they  are,  in  their  whole  scope  and  tenor,  to  exalt, 
establish,  and  render  more  beautiful,  the  whole  frame-work  of  the 
great  social  system  to  which  we  belong,  and  which  has  secured 
to  us  so  many  of  the  rights  and  privileges  of  citizens,  so  many 
of  the  blessings  of  Christianity. 

But  even  with  a  less  general  admission  than  this,  the  work  of 
M.  Guizot  must  be  considered  as  a  boon  to  mankind.  It  is  a  work 
of  peace.  Its  pervading  idea  is  not  to  point  out  certain  elements 
in  our  social  system,  or  forms  in  our  government  to  be  destroyed, 
but  how,  with  a  proper  respect  for  the  character  and  rights  of 
every  part  and  form  of  society,  we  may  make  them  all  conducive 
to  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  man  as  an  individual  and  social 
being:  the  very  essence  of  civilization  consisting,  in  our  author's 
opinion,  in  the  improvement  of  men  as  individuals,  and  the  im- 
provement of  the  conditions  by  which  they  are  incorporated  into 
societies. 

The  object  of  M.  Guizot's  work  is  to  give  a  general  view  of 
European  civilization,  in  this,  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  from 
the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians 


IV  TRANSLATOR  S    PREFACE. 

to  the  present  time.  The  manner  in  which  he  has  executed  this 
task  is  original,  grand,  and  philosophical.  He  has  sought  out 
and  placed  before  his  reader  ti)e  elementary  principles  of  which 
the  present  social  system  of  Europe  is  formed.  He  has  shown 
how  essentially  this  system  differs  from  all  others,  ancient  oi*  mo- 
dern ;  and  he  accounts  for  it  from  the  great  diversity  of  materials 
of  which  it  is  composed.  He  makes  to  pass  in  review  before  us 
what  it  derived  from  the  Roman  Empire,  what  was  brought  into 
it  by  the  barbarians,  by  the  feudal  aristocracy,  by  the  Church,  by 
free  cities  and  communities,  and  by  royalty  ;  all  these  he  consi- 
ders as  so  many  ingredients,  by  the  mixing,  pounding,  and  fusion 
of  which,  the  present  state  of  society  has  been  produced  ;  a  soci- 
ety, on  this  very  account,  superior  to  any  which  ever  existed 
before,  and  which  is  still  progressing  towards  perfection.  But 
M.  Guizot's  lectures  are  not  confined  to  a  mere  nomenclature  of 
these  ingredients ;  he  describes  the  seeds  from  which  these  ele- 
ments of  our  civilization  have  sprung,  the  soil  by  which  they 
have  been  nourished,  the  fruits  which  they  have  borne,  the  parts 
of  them  which  are  good  and  profitable  for  civilization,  and,  there- 
fore, to  be  prized  and  preserved  ;  and  those  which,  on  the  con- 
trary, are  noxious  or  useless,  and  therefore  to  be  cast  away  or 
destroyed.  To  this  he  adds  the  effects  produced  by  the  fusion 
and  opposition  of  these  various  principles  ;  and,  in  tracing  out 
these,  he  gives  us  concise,  but  brilliant  sketches  of  the  several 
great  events  which  have  had  a  marked  influence  upon  the  desti- 
nies of  Europe,  among  which  stand  most  conspicuous,  the  Cru- 
sades, the  Reformation,  the  English  Revolution,  and  some  others. 
All  these  are  treated  in  an  original  and  masterly  manner  ;  indeed, 
the  Fourteen  Lectures  in  which  the  History  of  European  Civili- 
zation is  contained,  are  fourteen  great  historical  pictures  ;  every 
one  portraying  some  striking  and  important  fact  or  event,  and  dis- 
playing, not  only  in  the  grouping  and  throwing  out  of  the  principal 
subject,  but  likewise  in  the  introduction,  disposal,  and  finish  of  the 
minuter  details,  the  conception,  the  skill,  and  ihe  workmanship  of 
a  master.  Slill  the  work  is  strictly  a  unity.  In  the  fourteen  pic- 
tures collectively,  you  have  one  great  and  entire  subject — the  His- 
tory of  Civilization  in  Europe  ;  and  that  so  told  as  cannot  fail  to 
please  and  instruct  the  historian,  the  student,  and  the  philosopher. 
The  diffusion  of  J^l.  Guizot's  work  must,  it  is  believed,  be  bene- 


ficial  as  respects  both  morals  and  politics.  His  first  precept  to 
us  is,  be  grateful  for  the  slate  of  society  in  which  you  are  placed. 
During-  the  fifteen  centuries  tliat  civilization  has  been  advancing^ 
man  has  never  been,  either  physically  or  intelleciflaily,  so  inde- 
pendent, so  well-conditioned,  as  at  the  present  moment.  This, 
however,  should  make  us  neither  rash  nor  inactive  ;  torpidity  and 
violence  are  both  evils  ;  but  while  labouring  to  advance  our  civil- 
ization, we  must  ever  remember  that  justice,  legitimacy,  publi- 
city, and  liberty,  are  necessary  conditions  of  its  existence. 

The  moderation  of  M.  Guizot  is  as  condemnatory  of  the  party 
that  would  keep  society  stationary,  as  it  is  of  that  which  would 
drive  it  too  fast — of  that  which  would  force  it  along  with  such 
reckless  fury  as  must  make  the  boldest  of  those  to  quake  who 
value  its  safety.  Must  we  look  only  to  experience  ;  to  what  has 
been  1  no, — else  how  can  we  improve  !  Much  less  must  we  fix 
our  eye  upon  some  beau  ideal  of  society,  some  beautiful,  fine- 
spun theory,  regardless  of  the  impossibility  of  moulding  the  mate- 
rials which  we  have  to  work  up  into  its  form. 

Experience  has  made  nothing  more  certain  than  the  danger  of 
whirling  a  society  along  too  rapidly,  even  in  the  way  of  truth. 
Every  nation  has  its  usages,  its  affections,  its  traditions  ;  in  the 
judgment  of  the  wise  its  usages  may  be  mixed  with  abuses,  its 
affections  altogether  or,  partly  ill-placed,  its  traditions  false;  yet 
it  requires  all  the  skill  of  the  legislator  to  deal  with  these  evils — 
it  is  not  enough  that  they  are  seen  by  the  enlightened  few  ;  the 
many  must  be  instructed  and  convinced,  they  must  judge  and 
condemn  them,  before  they  can  be  legitimately  destroyed.  It  is 
no  less  dangerous  in  a  state  to  deny  too  long  the  cravings  of  its 
imagination  ;  to  stem  the  current  of  its  passion  ;  it  is  not  very 
often  that  these  are  altogether  misdirected  ;  and  where  they  are, 
intelligence  and  reason  are  the  only  means  by  which  they  can  be 
turned  to  a  proper  object,  or  cured. 

Legislators  should  ever  bear  in  mind,  that  they  are  not  called 
upon  to  expound  and  prove  a  theory.  They  are  called  to  act  upon, 
and  for,  a  community  which  has  been  given  to  them  ;  not  to  create 
one.  Nations  exist,  but  it  is  not  legislators  who  have  called  them 
into  existence  ;  nations  exist,  and  every  nation  has  a  constitution, 
taking  this  word  in  its  widest  s'gnification,  because  it  exists 
This  constitution  the  legislator  may  touch  with  the  file,  but  never 


VI 

with  tliG  axe.  It  is  his  duty  to  render  it  continually  better 
adapted  for  llie  improvement  and  happiness  of  man  ;  but  in  doing 
this,  he  must  be  careful  of  risking  that  life  which  it  is  beyond 
his  power  tofestore,  and  which  may,  perhaps,  depend  upon  some 
organ  that  he  may  wish  to  correct  or  suppress.  It  is  his  duty 
above  all  things  to  respect  the  life  of  the  political  body,  such  as 
it  exists  ;  and  he  must  do  the  same  by  all  such  of  its  members  as 
appear  endowed  with  life.  He  is  a  conservator,  and  not  a  crea- 
tor. It  is  not  for  him  to  demand  whether  royalty,  nobility,  the 
clergy,  popular  assemblies,  municipal  corporations,  should  exist 
or  not  in  the  constitution  which  he  has  to  guide.  It  is  necessary, 
it  is  essential  that  he  should  be  well  acquainted  with  all  these 
matters  in  the  abstract,  that  he  should  have  as  correct  an  idea  as 
possible  of  their  merits  and  defects  ;  but  he  must  remember  that 
these  are  facts  wliich  every  nation  presents  under  different  condi- 
tions, and  that  probably  the  life  of  the  nation  for  which  he  labours 
is  attached  to  these  facts. 

Social  science  is  not  yet  so  far  advanced  that  we  can  know 
positively  to  what  extent  the  powers  which  we  see  in  a  state  are 
necessary  to  its  existence.  Nothing,  it  is  true,  is  immutable  in 
the  world  of  politics  ;  and  the  various  powers  in  a  state  may  per- 
haps at  times  require  to  be  modified  or  re-adjusted  ;  but  the 
greatest  caution  must  here  be  observed  ;  no  power  must  suffer 
privation  till  it  has  first  been  judged  by  the  general  interest  and 
intelligence  of  society  ;  the  length  of  its  prior  existence,  and  the 
degree  of  prosperity  and  liberty  the  stare  has  enjoyed  while  it 
has  formed  part  of  its  life,  giving  it  a  proportionate  claim  to 
consideration,  and,  for  the  safety  of  all,  the  right  of  resistance. 

Government,  when  it  is  rational,  to  promote  civilization,  must 
respect  and  protect  that  which  it  finds  in  a  state  ;  but  it  must,  at 
the  same  time,  prepare  the  means  for  its  growth,  for  its  trans- 
formation, into  that  which  it  should  be.  This  is  always  its  two- 
fold, its  legitimate  object.  It  must  show  its  respect  for  liberty, 
and  endeavour  to  strengthen  it,  by  uniting  into  one  single  being, 
all  the  minds,  all  the  wills  of  the  nation ;  but  while  doing  this,  to 
ensure  the  safety  and  happiness  of  society,  it  must  make  choice  of 
such  to  execute  its  various  functions  as  will  best  perform  them  for 
the  good  of  the  nation  ;  it  must  give  a  decisive  influence  to  those 
who  have  talents,  virtues,  abilities,  experience ;  to  those,  in  short, 


vu 

who,  most  interested  in  the  destinies  of  a  society,  will  enable  it 
to  accomplish  most  surely  its  perilous  passage  through  the  rocks 
and  shallows  in  its  course. 

Society,  in  order  to  attain  its  object",  has  need  of  the  highest 
virtues,  coupled  with  the  greatest  abilities.  But  where  has  it 
been  demonstrated  that  these  exist  in  the  multitude  1  where  is  it 
showrr  that  the  most  enlightened  views  will  be  adopted  by  the 
mob]  that  the  firmness  of  the  most  patient  will  bear  with  its  in- 
solence? that  the  prudence  of  the  most  skilful  will  be  able  to 
regulate  its  impetuosity  ?  that  we  shall  be  able  to  discover  in  its 
proceedings  that  unity  of  design,  that  foresight,  that  perseverance 
and  liberality,  so  necessary  to  the  success  of  all  great  schemes  ; 
that  economy,  in  the  management  of  the  national  finance,  without 
which  it  must  itself  suffer  ]  Experience  answers  these  ques- 
tions ;  for  the  history  of  every  free  nation  bears  witness  to  the 
inconstancy,  the  rashness,  the  p&nic  terrors,  the  prodigality  and 
niggardness  of  the  multitude. 

Constitutional  government,  however,  is  the  co-operation  of  the 
various  powers  in  a  state,  and  not  their  separation.  It  requires 
not  aristocracy  to  be  opposed  to  democracy,  nor  democracy  to 
make  war  upon  aristocracy.  Neither  is  it  the  balance  of  th^ 
various  forces,  but  their  union.  It  requires  nothing,  in  short,  but 
that  one  single  will  should  be  brought  out  from  the  fusion  of  va- 
rious wills  ;  but  then  to  obtain  this  single  will  every  class  of  so- 
ciety must  be  heard,  all  their  interests  must  be  consulted,  all  their 
causes  must  be  pleaded  ;  and  upon  every  question,  the  highest 
virtue  to  be  found  in  the  country,  enlightened  by  the  highest  in- 
telligence, must  pronounce  judgment  without  appeal. 

Happy  and  lasting  will  be  the  country  that  so  governs  itself; 
for  though  every  human  institution  is  likely  to  have  an  end,  as 
well  as  a  beginning,  yet  the  time  of  its  duration  is  not  fixed,  and 
no  nation  can  suffer  internal  decay  but  by  the  vices  of  its  citi- 
zens. It  is  only  when  man  shall  have  attained  the  highest  state 
of  his  terrestrial  existence,  that  we  shall  be  able  with  safety  to 
speculate  upon  the  possible  duration  of  a  community.  Who  can 
say  what  may  be  the  effect  of  the  diffusion  of  intelligence  among 
aZ/ the  orders  of  a  state?  This  is  an  experiment  wiiich  at  least 
demands  a  trial,  and  its  gradual  approach  brightens  the  prospects 
of  humanity. 


VIU  TRANSLATOR  S    PREFACE. 

For  ourselves,  let  us  bear  in  mind  that  men  of  virtue,  integrity, 
and  abilities,  are  well  situated  in  whatever  place  their  lot  may  be 
cast.  In  all  the  ups  and  downs  of  fortune,  they  at  least  reap  the 
principal  enjoyments  of  their  nature;  they  are  the  happy  instru- 
ments chosen  by  Providence  to  carry  forward  the  work  of  civili- 
zation, to  meliorate  the  condition  of  society,  and  promote  the  hap- 
piness of  man.  We  may  furthermore  feel  assured,  that  ^hile  a 
Btatc  shall  have  a  succession  of  such  for  its  citizens,  it  shall  be 
immortal — it  can  never  die. 


Oxford, 
8th  March,  1837. 


•.*  It  should  perhaps  be  stated,  that  one  or  two  of  the  later  lectures  arc 
not  translated  by  the  same  hand  as  the  rest,  though,  to  ensure  uniformity,  he  has 
carefully  revised  them. 


ANALYTICAL   TABLE  .  OF  CONTENTS. 


LECTURE  I. 


CIVILIZATION   IN   GENERAL. 


Object  of  the  course 

History  of  European  civilization 

Part  taken  in  it  by  France 

Civilization  may  be   recounted 

Forms  the  most  general  and  interest- 
ing fact  of  history 

Popular  and  usual  meaning  of  the 
word  civilization 

Civilization  consists  of  two  principal 
facts  : — 1st.  The  progress  of  soci- 
ety ;  2d.  The  progress  of  indi- 
viduals   

Proofs  of  this  assertion 


That  these  two  facts  are  necessarily 
connected  to  one  another,  and 
sooner  or  later  produce  one  an- 
other       26 

The  entire  destiny  of  man  not  con- 
tained in  his  present  or  social 
condition 30 

Two  ways  of  considering  and  writ- 
ing the  history  of  civilization 31 

A  few  words  upon  the  plan  of  this 
course 33 

Of  the  actual  stale  of  opinion,  and  of 
the  future,  as  regards  civilization    34 


LECTURE  II. 


OF    EUROPEAN    CIVILIZATION  ;  — IN    PARTICULAR  ITS   DISTINGUISHED   CHARAC- 
TERISTICS— ITS    SUPERIOKITY— ITS    ELEMENTS. 


Object  of  the  lecture 36 

Unity  of  ancient  civilization 38 

Variety  of  modern  civilization 39 

Superiority  of  the  latter 42 

State  of  Europe   at  the  Fall  of  the 

Roman  Empire 43 

Preponderance  of  cities 44 

Attem[)ts  at  political  reform  made  by 

the  emperors 46 

Rescripts  of  Honorius  and  Theodo- 

sins  II. 47 

Power  in  the  name  of  empire 48 


Thr  Christian  Church 49 

The  various  stales  in  which  it  had 
existed  down  to  the  fifth  century.     51 

The  clergy  possessed  of  municipal 
offices 53 

Good  and   evil   influence    of   the 

church 56 

The  BAtiBARiANS 57 

They  introduce  into  the  modern 
world  the  sentiments  of  personal 

independence  and  loyalty 

Sketch  of  the  various  elements  of 
civiliz-ition  at  the  beginning  of 
the  fifth  century 


59 


61 


LECTURE   in. 
OF   POLITICAL  LEGITIMACY — CO-EXloTENCE    OF  ALL  THE     SYSTEMS     OF    GOV- 
ERNMENT IN  THE  FIFTH  CENTURY — ATTEMPTS  TO  HE-ORGANIZE  SOCIETY. 


All  the  various  systems  of  civiliza- 
tion lay  claim  to  legitimacy 

Explanation   of  political  legitimacy. 

Co-existence  of  all  tlie  various  sys- 
tem? of  government  in  the  fifth 
century 

Instabihty  of  the  state  of  persons, 
estates,  domains,  and  institu- 
tions  

Two  causes— one  material,  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  invasions 73 

A.  second  moral,  the  sentiment  of 
egotist  individualism,  peculiar  to 
the  barbarians 75 


71 


The  elementary  principles  of  civili- 
zation have  been, 

1.  The  want  of  older 

2.  Remembrances  of  the  empire. 

3.  The  Christian  Church 

4.  The   barbarians 

Attempts  at  organization 

1.  By  the  barbarians 

2.  By  the  cities 

3.  By  the  church  of  Sjjain 

4.  By  Charlemagne— Alfred 

The  German  and  Saracen  invasion 

arre.5ted 

The  feudal  system  begins 


85 


CONTENTS. 


LECTURE  IV. 

THE    FEUDAL    SYSTEM. 

Necessary    alliance    of    fac:s   and  of  the  feudal  syslem 102 

theories 87        1st.   iNo  great  authoniy 104 

Prepondeianceof  country  life 92        '2d.  Ni.  public  power 105 

Orsaiiizaii.in  of  a  litde  fii.lal  society    94  3d.  Difficulties    of  the    federative 

Influence  of  feudalism  upi>ri  the  di.s-  system 107 

position   of  a  proprieior  of  afief    05  Right  of  res^islance  inherent  in  the 

Upon  Ilic  spirit  of  family %  feudal  system 108 

Hatred  of  (lie  people  for  llic  feudal  Influence  of  feudalism  good  for    the 

system 99  development  of  individual  man  110 

Priestscoulddobut  little  for  the  serfs  101        Bad  for  social  order 110 

Impossibility  of  regular  organization 


LECTURE  V. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CHURCH. 


Religion  a  principle  of  association. .  113 
Force  not  essential  to  govenmiLUi.  •  114 
Conditions  necessary  to    tlie  hgiti- 

macy  of  a.  government 115 

1.  Powor  in  the  hands  of  the  most 
worthy 118 

2.  A  respect  f)r  the  liberties  of  the 
governed 119 

The  church  being  a  corporation  and 
not  a  caste,  answered  to  the  first 
oflho?e  coridiiion.s 123 

Various  modes  of  nomination  and 
election  in  the  church 12G 


It  failed  in  the  second  condition  by 

the    unlawful  extension   of  the 

principle  of  authority 127 

And  by   itd  abusive  employment  of 

force 129 

Activity  and  liberty  of  mind  vtilhin 

th-   chuich 130 

Connection    of    the     church   with 

princes 132 

Principle   o|  the    independence    of 

spiritual  authority 133 

Claims  of  the  church  to   dominion 

over  temporal  powers 135 


LECTURE  VI. 


THE    CHKISTIAN    CHURCH. 


Separation  of  the  governing  and  tlie 

governed  in  the  church 139 

Indirect  influence  of  the  laity  upon 
the   churcfi 142 

The  clerical  body  recruited  from  all 
ranks  of  society 144 

Influence  of  the  church  on  public 
order  anri  leijislation 146 

Its  sy.>tem  of  penitence 149 

The  projrress  of  the  human  mind 
purely  thpological 151 

The  church  ranges  itself  on  the  side 

of  authority 154 

Not  astoMi.5liing— the  object  of  reli- 
gion i.s  to  regulate  human  liberty  155 

Various  states  of  the  church  from 


the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century  157 

1.  The  imperial  cliurch 157 

2.  The  bartiarian  cliurch— develop- 

ment'>f  the  principle  of  the 
separation  of  the  two  powers  158 
The  monasiic  orders 159 

3.  Tlie  feudal  church 160 

At'empr.s  at  organization 101 

Want  of  reform 161 

Gregory  VII. 162 

4.  The  ilieocralic  church 103 

Revival  of  free  inquiry 164 

Abelard,  &c 164 

Agitaiion   in  the    municipalities  165 
No  connection  between    these 

two  facts 165 


LECTURE  VII. 


RISE   OF    FRKE    CITIES. 


A  sketch  of  the  different  states  of 
citie«,  in  the  twelfth  and  eigh- 
teenth centuries 107 

Twof  .Id  questiim  : — 

1st.  Affrandiisement  of  cities 172 

State  ot  cities  from  the  fiuh  to  the 

tenth    centuries 173 

Their  ilecline  and  revival 173 

Insurrection  of  the  comtnons 173 

Charters 179 


Social  and  moral  effects  of  the  af- 

'ranclii^ement  of  the  cities 182 

2d    Of  tlie   interior  government  of 

cities 190 

Assemblies  of  the  people 191 

Mngistra'es 191 

Hiih  and  low  burghers 192 

Diversity  in  the  state  of  the  com- 
mons in  various  countries 192 


CONTENTS 


XI 


LECTURE   VIII. 

SKETCH    OF   EUROPEAN    CIVILIZATION— THE    CRUSADES. 


General  view  of  the  civilization  of 
Europe 193 

Its  distiuciive  and  fundamental  char- 
acter    195 

When  this  character  began  to  appear  19tj 

State  of  Europe  from  the  twelfth  to 
the  sixteenth  century 196 


The  Crusades : 

Theit  character 198 

Tiieir  moral  and  social  causes 201 

These  causes  cease  at  the  end  of 

the  thiiteenth  century 202 

Effects  of  the  crusades  upon  civili- 
zation    205 


LECTURE  IX, 


MONARCHY. 


Important  part  of  monarchy  in  the 

hi ^fory  of  Europe ^213 

In  the  history  of  the  world 214 

True  causes  of  its  importance 214 

Twofold  point  of  view  under  whicli 

monarchy  should  be  considered  215 
1st.    Its  peculiar     and     permanent 

character 215 

It  is  the  personification  of  legiti- 
mate sovereignty 21 G 


Within  what  limits 220 

2d.  Its  rlexibdity  and  diversity 222 

The   European  monarchy    seems 
the  result  of  the  various  species 

of  monarchy 222 

Of  the  barbarian  monarchy 223 

Of  the  imperial  monarchy 224 

Of  the  leuUal  monarchy 229 

Of  modern  monarchy,   properly   bO 
culled,  and  of  its  true  character  229 


LECTURE  X. 


ATTEMPTS   AT    ORGANIZATION. 


Attempts  to  reconcile  the  variorts 
social  elements  of  modern  Eu- 
rope, so  as  to  make  them  live 
and  act  in  common— to  form 
one   society    under    one    same 

central  power 234 

1st.  Attempt  at  theocratic  organiza- 
tion   233 

Why  it  failed C'3S 

Four  jirincipal  obstacles 233 

Fdiulls  of  Gregory  VII 241 

Re-action  against  the  dominion  of 

the  church 242 

On  the  pait  of  the  people 243 

On  the  parr  of  the  sovereigns 243 

2d.  Attempts  at  republican  organiza- 
tion   244 


Italian  rppublics — their  vices 246 

Cities  of  the  south  of  France 247 

Crusade  against  the  Mbigenses.. .  248 

The  Srtiss  coni'ederacy 249 

Free   cities  of  Fiandeis  and  the 

Rhine 249 

Hanseatic  League 250 

Struggle  between  the  feudal  nobil- 

iiyandthe  cities 250 

3d.   Attempts  at  mixed  organization  250 

The  States-general  of  France 251 

Tin^  Cortes  of  fipain  and  Portugal  252 

The  Parliament  of  England 253 

Bad  success  of  all  these  attempts...  254 

Causes  of  their  failure 254 

General  tendency  of  Europe 255 


LECTURE  XL 

CENTRALIZATION,    DIPLO.^IACY,    ETC. 


Particular  character  of  the  fifteenth 

century 2.56 

Progressive  centralizations  of  nations 

and  governments 258 

1st.  Of  France 259 

Formation  of  the  national  spirit  of 

France 2.59 

Forma  ion  of  the  French  territory  260 
Louis  XI.,  manner  of  governing.  •  262 

2d.  Of  Spain 263 

3d.  OfGermany 263 

4th.  OlFnsland 264 

5th.  Of  Italy 265 

Rise  of  the  exterior  relations  of  states 


and  of  diplomacy 266 

Agitation  of  religious  opinions 269 

Attempt  at  aristocratic  reform  in  the 

ciiurch 270 

Councils  of  Constance  and  Bale 271 

Attempt  at  popular  reform 273 

John  Hups 278 

Revival  of  ancient  literature 274 

Adii.iration  for  antiquity 274 

Classic  school .  275 

General  activity 276 

Voyages,  travels,  inventions,  &c 277 

Conclusion 277 


xu 


CONTENTS. 


Difficulty  of  unravcllina:  general 
fiicls  in  modern   l)i<;tory 

Picture  of  Europe  in  llie  sixteenth 
century 

Danger  of  precipitate  generaliza- 
tions  

Various  causes  assigned  for  tlie  re 


LECTURE  XII. 

THE    REFORMATION. 

against  absolute  power  in  intel- 


278  leciual  affkirs 2f^7 

Proofs  of  this  fact 289 

279  Progress  of  the  reformation  in  differ- 
ent countries ••••  200 

283    Weak  side  of  the  reformation 293 

TheJesuits 294 

formation " 2S5    Analogy   betwecen  the   revolutions 

Its  predominant  characteristic— the  of  civil  and  religious  society 297 

insurrection  of  the  human  mind 


LECTURE  XIII. 

THE   ENGLISH    REVOLUTION. 


General  character  of  the  English  re- 
volution    300 

lis  principal  causes 301 

Rather  political  than  religious 302 

Three  great  pailies  succeed  one  an- 
other in  its  progress 307 

Ist.  The    pure    monarchy    reform 

party 303 

2d.  The  constitutional  reform  party  309 


3d.  The  republican  party 310 

They  all  fail 312 

Cromwell 313 

Restoration  of  the  Stuaits 315 

The  legitimate  administration 316 

Profligate  administrations 317 

National  administration 318 

Revolution  of  103S  in  England  and 
Europe 320 


LCETURE  XIV. 


THE    FRENCH    REVOLUTION. 


Differences  and  resemblances  in  the 

f)rogress  of  civilization  in  Eng- 
and  and  on  the  continpnt 322 

Preponilerance  of  France  in  Europe 
m  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 

centuries 326 

In  the  seventeenth  by  the  French 

government 328 

In  the  eighteenth  by  the  country  itself  329 
Of  the  government  of  Louis  XIV —  329 


Of  his  wars 331 

Of  his  diplomacy 332 

Of  hid  administration 336 

Of  his  legislation 337 

Causes  of  its  prompt  decline 338 

France  in  the  eighteenth  century-.  340 
Essential  cbaracferistics  of  the  philo- 
sophical revolution •' 340 

Conclusion  of  the  lectures 345 


GENERAL 
HISTORY    OF    CIVILIZATION 

IN    MODERN    EUROPE, 

FROM  THE  FALL  OF  THE  ROMAN  EMPIRE  TO  THE  FRENCH 
REVOLUTION. 


LECTURE    I. 

CIVILIZATION      IN      GENERAL. 

Being  called  upon  to  give  a  course  of  lectures,  and  hav- 
ing considered  what  subject  would  be  most  agreeable  and 
convenient  to  fill  up  the  short  space  allowed  us  from  now 
to  the  close  of  the  year,  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  a  gene- 
ral sketch  of  the  History  of  Modern  Europe,  considered 
more  especially  with  regard  to  the  progress  of  civilization 
— that  a  general  survey  of  the  history  of  European  civili- 
zation, of  its  origin,  its  progress,  its  end,  its  character, 
would  be  the  most  profitable  subject  upon  which  I  could 
engage  your  attention. 

I  say  European  civilization,  because  there  is  evidently 
so  striking  a  uniformity  (uniU)  in  the  civilization  of  the 
different  states  of  Europe,  as  fully  to  warrant  this  appella- 
tion. Civilization  has  flowed  to  them  all  from  sources  so 
much  alike — it  is  so  connected  in  them  all,  notwithstand- 
ing the  great  differences  of  time,  of  place,  and  circum- 
stances, by  the  same  principles,  and  it  so  tends  in  them  all 
to  bring  about  the  same  results,  that  no  one  will  doubt 
the  fact  of  there  being  a  civilization  essentially  European. 
2 


14}  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    THE 

At  the  same  time  it  must  be  observed  that  this  civiliza- 
tion cannot  be  found  in — its  history  cannot  be  collected 
from,  the  history  of  any  single  state  of  Europe.  However 
similar  in  its  general  appearance  throughout  the  whole, 
its  variety  is  not  less  remarkable,  nor  has  it  ever  yet  de- 
veloped itself  completely  in  any  particular  country.  Its 
characteristic  features  are  widely  spread,  and  we  shall  be 
obliged  to  seek,  as  occasion  may  require,  in  England,  in 
France,  in  Germany,  in  Spain,  for  the  elements  of  its  his- 
tory. 

The  situation  in  which  we  are  placed,  as  Frenchmen, 
afibrds  us  a  great  advantage  for  entering  upon  the  study 
of  European  civilization  ;  for,  without  intending  to  flatter 
the  country  to  Avhich  I  am  bound  by  so  many  ties,  I  can- 
not but  regard  France  as  the  centre,  as  the  focus,  of  the 
civilization  of  Europe.  It  would  be  going  too  far  to  say 
that  she  has  always  been,  upon  every  occasion,  in  advance 
of  other  nations.  Italj^,  at  various  epochs,  has  outstrip- 
ped her  in  the  arts  ;  England,  as  regards  political  institu- 
tions, is  by  far  before  her ;  and,  perhaps,  at  certain  mo- 
menta, we  may  find  other  nations  of  Europe  superior  to 
her  in  various  particulars  :  but  it  must  still  be  allowed, 
that  whenever  France  has  set  forw^ard  in  the  career  of 
civilization,  she  has  sprung  forth  with  new  vigour,  and 
has  soon  come  up  wdth,  or  passed  by,  all  her  rivals. 

Not  only  is  this  the  case,  but  those  ideas,  those  institu- 
tions w^hich  promote  civilization,  but  whose  birth  must  be 
referred  to  other  countries,  have,  before  they  could  be- 
come general,  or  produce  fruit, — before  they  could  be 
transplanted  to  other  lands,  or  benefit  the  common  stock 
of  European  civilization,  been  obliged  to  undergo  in 
France  a  new  preparation :  it  is  from  France,  as  from  a 
second  country  more  rich  and  fertile,  that  they  have 
started  forth  to  make  the  conquest  of  Europe.  There  is 
not  a  single  great  idea,  not  a  single  great  principle  of 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN    EUROPE.  15 

civilization,  which,  in  order  to  become  universally  spread, 
has  not  first  passed  through  France. 

There  is,  indeed,  in  the  genius  of  the  French,  something 
of  a  sociableness,  of  a  sympathy, — something  w^hich 
spreads  itself  with  more  facility  and  energy,  than  in  the 
genius  of  any  other  people  :  it  may  be  in  the  language, 
or  the  particular  turn  of  mind  of  the  French  nation;  it 
may  be  in  their  manners,  or  that  their  ideas,  being  more 
popular,  present  themselves  more  clearly  to  the  masses, 
penetrate  among  them  with  greater  ease  ;  but,  in  a  word, 
clearness,  sociability,  sympathy,  are  the  particular  cha- 
racteristics of  France,  of  its  civilization ;  and  these  quali- 
ties render  it  eminently  qualified  to  march  at  the  head  of 
European  civilization. 

In  studying  then  the  history  of  this  great  fact,  it  is 
neither  an  arbitrary  choice,  nor  convention,  that  leads  us 
to  make  France  the  central  point  from  which  we  shall 
study  it ;  but  it  is  because  we  feel  that  in  so  doing,  we  in 
a  manner  place  ourselves  in  the  very  heart  of  civilization 
itself — in  the  heart  of  the  very  fact  which  we  desire  to 
investigate. 

I  say /ad,  and  I  say  it  advisedly  :  civilization  is  just  as 
much  a  fact  as  any  other — it  is  a  fact  which  like  any  other 
may  be  studied,  described,  and  have  its  history  recounted. 

It  has  been  the  custom  for  some  time  past,  and  very 
properly,  to  talk  of  the  necessity  of  confining  history  to 
facts ;  nothing  can  be  more  just ;  but  it  would  be  almost 
absurd  to  suppose  that  there  are  no  facis  but  such  as  are 
material  and  visible  :  there  are  moral,  hidden  facts,  which 
are  no  less  real  than  battles,  wars,  and  the  public  acts  of 
government.  Besides  these  individual  facts,  each  of 
which  has  its  proper  name,  there  are  others  of  a  general 
nature,  without  a  name,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  say 
that  they  happened  in  such  a  year,  or  on  such  a  day,  and 
which  it  is  impossible  to  confine  within  any  precise  limits, 


16  GENERAL    HISTORY   OF    THE 

but  which  are  yet  just  as  much  facts  as  the  battles  and 
public  acts  of  which  we  have  spoken. 

That  very  portion,  indeed,  which  we  are  accustomed  to 
hear  called  the  philosophy  of  history — which  consists  in 
show^ntr  the  relation  of  events  with  each  other — the  chain 
which  connects  them — the  causes  and  effects  of  events — 
this  is  history  just  as  much  as  the  description  of  battles, 
and  all  the  other  exterior  events  which  it  recounts.  Facts 
of  this  kind  are  undoubtedly  more  difficult  to  unravel  j  the 
historian  is  more  liable  to  deceive  himself  respecting 
them ;  it  requires  more  skill  to  place  them  distinctly  be- 
fore the  reader;  but  this  difficulty  does  not  alter  their 
nature  ;  they  still  continue  not  a  whit  the  less,  for  all  this, 
to  form  an  essential  part  of  history. 

Civilization  is  just  one  of  these  kind  of  facts :  it  is  so 
general  in  its  nature  that  it  can  scarcely  be  seized  ;  so 
complicated  that  it  can  scarcely  be  unravelled ;  so  hidden 
as  scarcely  to  be  discernible.  The  difficulty  of  describing 
itjof  recounting  its  history,  is  apparent  and  acknowledged  j 
but  its  existence,  its  worthiness  to  be  described  and  to  be 
recounted,  is  not  less  certain  and  manifest.  Then,  respect- 
ing civilization,  what  a  number  of  problems  remain  to  be 
solved  !  It  may  be  asked,  it  is  even  now  disputed,  whether 
civilization  be  a  good  or  an  evil  1  One  party  decries  it  as 
teeming  with  mischief  to  man,  while  another  lauds  it  as 
the  means  by  which  he  will  attain  his  highest  dignity  and 
excellence.  Again,  it  is  asked  whether  this  fact  is  uni- 
versal— w^hether  there  is  a  general  civilization  of  the  whole 
human  race — a  course  for  humanity  to  run — a  destiny  for 
it  to  accomplish ;  whether  nations  have  not  transmitted 
from  age  to  age  something  to  their  successors  which  is 
never  lost,  but  which  grows  and  continues  as  a  common 
stock,  and  will  thus  be  carried  on  to  the  end  of  all  things. 
For  my  part,  I  feel  assured  that  human  nature  has  such  a 
destiny ;  that  a  general  civilization  pervades  the  human 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN    EUROPE.  17 

race  ;  that  at  every  epoch  it  augments ;  and  that  there, 
consequently,  is  a  universal  history  of  civilization  to  be 
written.  Nor  have  I  any  hesitation  in  asserting  that  this 
history  is  the  most  noble,  the  most  interesting  of  any,  and 
that  it  comprehends  every  other. 

Is  it  not  indeed  clear  that  civilization  is  the  great  fact  in 
which  all  others  merge  ;  in  which  they  all  end,  in  which  they 
are  all  condensed,  in  which  all  others  find  their  importance^ 
Take  all  the  facts  of  which  the  history  of  a  nation  is  com- 
posed, all  the  facts  which  we  are  accustomed  to  consider  as 
the  elements  of  its  existence — take  its  institutions,  its  com- 
merce, its  industry,  its  wars,  the  various  details  of  its  gov- 
ernment ;  and  if  you  would  form  some  idea  of  them  as  a 
whole,  if  you  would  see  their  various  bearings  on  each 
other,  if  you  would  appreciate  their  value,  if  you  would  pass 
a  judgment  upon  them,  what  is  it  you  desire  to  know  1 
Why,  what  they  have  done  to  forward  the  progress  of  civ- 
ilization— what  part  they  have  acted  in  this  great  drama, 
— what  influence  they  have  exercised  in  aiding  its  advance. 
It  is  not  only  by  this  that  we  form  a  general  opinion  of  these 
facts,  but  it  is  by  this  standard  that  we  try  them,  that  we 
estimate  their  true  value.     These  are,  as  it  were,  the  rivers 
of  whom  we  ask  how  much  water  they  have  carried  to  the 
ocean.     Civilization  is,  as  it  were,  the  grand  emporium  of 
a  people,  in  which  all  its  wealth — all  the  elements  of  its 
life — all  the  powers  of  its  existence  are  stored  up.     It  is 
so  true  that  we  judge  of  minor  facts  accordingly  as  they 
affect  this  greater  one,  that  even  some  which  are  naturally 
detested  and  hated,  which  prove  a  heavy  calamity  to  the 
nation  upon  which  they  fall — say,  for  instance,  despotism, 
anarchy,  and  so  forth, — even  these  are  partly  forgiven, 
their  evil  nature  is  partly  overlooked,  if  they  have  aided  in 
any  considerable  degree  the  march  of  civilization.      Wher- 
ever the  progress  of  this  principle  is  visible,  together  with 
the  facts  which  have  urged  it  forward,  we  are  tempted  to 
2* 


18  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    THE 

forget  the  price  it  has  cost — we  overlook  the  clearness  of 
the  purchase. 

Again — there  are  certain  facts  which,  properly  speaking, 
cannot  be  called  social — individual  facts  which  rather  con- 
cern the  human  intellect  than  public  life  :  such  are  religious 
doctrines,  philosophical  opinions,  literature,  the  sciences 
and  arts.  All  these  seem  to  offer  themselves  to  individual 
man  for  his  improvement,  instruction,  or  amusement ;  and 
•to  be  directed  rather  to  his  intellectual  melioration  and 
pleasure,  than  to  his  social  condition.  Yet  still,  how  often 
do  these  facts  ccme  before  us — how  often  are  we  compelled 
to  consider  them  as  influencing  civilization  !  In  all  times, 
in  all  countries,  it  has  been  the  boast  of  religion,  that  it  has 
civilized  the  people  among  Avhom  it  has  dwelt.  Literature, 
the  arts  and  sciences,  have  put  in  their  claim  for  a  share 
of  this  glory  ;  and  mankind  has  been  ready  to  laud  and 
honour  them  whenever  it  has  felt  that  this  praise  was  fairly 
their  due.  In  the  same  manner,  facts  the  most  important 
— facts  of  themselves,  and  independently  of  their  exterior 
consequences,  the  most  sublime  in  their  nature,  have  in- 
creased in  importance,  have  reached  a  higher  degree  of 
sublimity,  by  their  connexion  with  civilization.  Such  is 
the  worth  of  this  great  principle,  that  it  gives  a  value  to  all 
it  touches.  Not  only  so,  but  there  are  even  cases,  in 
which  the  facts  of  which  w^e  have  spoken,  in  which 
philosophy,  literature,  the  sciences,  and  the  arts,  are  es- 
pecially judged,  and  condemned  or  applauded  according 
to  their  influence  upon  civilization. 

Before,  however,  we  proceed  to  the  history  of  this  fact, 
so  important,  so  extensive,  so  precious,  and  which  seems, 
as  it  were,  to  embody  the  entire  life  of  nations,  let  us  con- 
sider it  for  a  moment  in  itself,  and  endeavour  to  discover 
what  it  really  is. 

I  shall  be  careful  here  not  to  fall  into  pure  philosophy ; 
I  shall  not  lay  down  a  certain  rational  principle,  and  then, 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN    EUROPE.  19 

by  deduction,  show  the  nature  of  civilization  as  a  conse- 
quence :  there  would  be  too  many  chances  of  error  in 
pursuing  this  method.  Still,  without  this,  we  shall  be  able 
to  find  a  fact  to  establish  and  to  describe. 

For  a  long  time  past,  and  in  many  countries,  the  word 
civilization  has  been  in  use  ;  ideas  more  or  less  clear,  and 
of  wider  or  more  contracted  signification,  have  been  at- 
tached to  it  ',  still  it  has  been  constantly  employed  and 
generally  understood.  Now,  it  is  the  popular,  common 
signification  of  this  word  that  we  must  investigate.  In  the 
usual,  general  acceptation  of  terms,  there  will  nearly  al- 
ways be  found  more  truth  than  in  the  seemingly  more  pre- 
cise and  rigorous  definitions  of  science.  It  is  common 
sense  which  gives  to  words  their  popular  signification,  and 
common  sense  is  the  genius  of  humanity.  The  popular 
signification  of  a  word  is  formed  by  degrees,  and  while  the 
facts  it  represents  are  themselves  present.  As  often  as  a 
fact  comes  before  us  which  seems  to  answer  to  the  signifi- 
cation of  a  known  term,  this  term  is  naturally  applied  to  it, 
its  signification  gradually  extending  and  enlarging  itself, 
so  that  at  last  the  various  facts  and  ideas  which,  from  the 
nature  of  things,  ought  to  be  brought  together  aud  embo- 
died in  this  term,  will  be  found  collected  and  embodied  in  it. 
When,  on  the  contrary,  the  signification  of  a  word  is  de- 
termined by  science,  it  is  usually  done  by  one  or  a  very 
few  individuals,  who,  at  the  time,  are  under  the  influence 
of  some  particular  fact  which  has  taken  possession  of  their 
imagination.  Thus  it  comes  to  pass  that  scientific  defini- 
tions are,  in  general,  much  narrower,  and  on  that  very 
account,  much  less  correct,  than  the  popular  significations 
given  to  words.  So,  in  the  investigation  of  the  meaning 
of  the  word  civilization  as  a  fact — by  seeking  out  all  the 
ideas  it  comprises,  according  to  the  common  sense  of  man- 
kind, we  shall  arrive  much  nearer  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
fact  itself,  than  by  attempting  to  give  our  own  scientific 


20  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    THE 

definition  of  it,  though  this  might  at  first  appear  more 
clear  and  precise. 

I  shall  commence  this  investigation  by  placing  before 
you  a  series  of  hypotheses.  I  shall  describe  society  in 
various  conditions,  and  shall  then  ask  if  the  state  in  which 
I  so  describe  it  is,  in  the  general  opinion  of  mankind,  the 
state  of  a  people  advancing  in  civilization — if  it  answers 
to  the  signification  which  mankind  generally  attaches  to 
this  word. 

First,  imagine  a  people  whose  outward  circumstances 
are  easy  and  agreeable  ;  few  taxes,  few  hardships  ;  justice 
is  fairly  administered ;  in  a  word,  physical  existence, taken 
altogether,  is  satisfactorily  and  happily  regulated.  But 
with  all  this  the  moral  and  intellectual  energies  of  this  peo- 
ple are  studiously  kept  in  a  state  of  torpor  and  inertness. 
It  can  hardly  be  called  oppression  ;  its  tendency  is  not  of 
that  character — it  is  rather  compression.  VVe  are  not 
without  examples  of  this  state  of  society.  There  have 
been  a  great  number  of  little  aristocratic  republics,  in 
which  the  people  have  been  thus  treated  like  so  many  flocks 
of  sheep,  carefully  tended,  physically  happy,  but  without 
the  least  intellectual  and  moral  activity.  Is  this  civiliza- 
tion 1  Do  we  recognise  here  a  people  in  a  state  of  moral 
and  social  advancement  1 

Let  us  take  another  hypothesis.  Let  us  imagine  a  peo- 
ple whose  outward  circumstances  are  less  favourable  and 
agreeable  ;  still,  however,  supportable.  As  a  set-off,  its 
intellectual  and  moral  cravings  have  not  here  been  entirely 
neglected.  A  certain  range  has  been  allow^ed  them — some 
few  pure  and  elevated  sentiments  have  been  here  distrib- 
uted ;  religious  and  moral  notions  have  reached  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  improvement ;  but  the  greatest  care  has 
been  taken  to  stifle  every  principle  of  liberty.  The  moral 
and  intellectual  wants  of  this  people  are  provided  for  in 
the  way  that,  among  some  nations,  the  physical  wants  have 


CIVILIZATION   OF    MODERN   EUROPE.  21 

been  provided  for*;  a  certain  portion  of  truth  is  doled  out 
to  each,  but  no  one  is  permitted  to  help  himself — to  seek 
for  truth  on  his  own  account.  Immobility  is  the  charac- 
ter of  its  moral  life  ;  and  to  this  condition  are  fallen  most 
of  the  populations  of  Asia,  in  which  theocratic  govern- 
ment restrains  the  advance  of  man  :  such,  for  example,  is 
the  state  of  the  Hindoos.  I  again  put  the  same  question 
as  before — Is  this  a  people  among  whom  civilization  is 
going  on  1 

I  will  change  entirely  the  nature  of  the  hypothesis: 
suppose  a  people  among  whom  there  reigns  a  very  large 
stretch  of  personal  liberty,  but  among  whom  also  disor- 
der and  inequality  almost  every  w^here  abound.  The 
weak  are  oppressed,  afflicted,  destroyed ;  violence  is  the 
ruling  character  of  the  social  condition.  Every  one 
knows  that  such  has  been  the  state  of  Europe.  Is  this  a 
civilized  state  1  It  may  without  doubt  contain  germs  of 
civilization  which  may  progressively  shoot  up ;  but  the 
actual  state  of  things  which  prevails  in  this  society  is  not, 
we  may  rest  assured,  what  the  common  sense  of  mankind 
would  call  civilization. 

I  pass  on  to  a  fourth  and  last  hypothesis.  Every  indi- 
vidual here  enjoys  the  widest  extent  of  liberty  ;  inequality 
is  rare,  or,  at  least,  of  a  very  slight  character.  Every  one 
does  as  he  likes,  and  scarcely  differs  in  power  from  his 
neighbour.  But  then  here  scarcely  such  a  thing  is  known 
as  a  general  interest;  here  exist  but  few  public  ideas j 
hardly  any  public  feeling  ;  but  little  society  :  in  short,  the 
life  and  faculties  of  individuals  are  put  forth  and  spent  in 
an  isolated  state,  with  but  little  regard  to  society,  and  with 
scarcely  a  sentiment  of  its  influence.  Men  here  exercise 
no  influence  upon  one  another;  they  leave  no  traces  of 
their  existence.  Generation  after  generation  pass  away, 
leaving  society  just  as  they  found  it.  Such  is  the  con- 
dition of  the  various  tribes  of  savages  ;  liberty  and  equal- 
ity dwell  among  them,  but  no  touch  of  civilization. 


22  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF    THE 

I  could  easily  multiply  these  hypotheses  ;  but  I  presume 
that  I  have  gone  far  enough  to  show  what  is  the  popular 
and  natural  signification  of  the  word  civilization. 

It  is  evident  that  none  of  the  states  which  I  have  just 
described  will  correspond  with  the  common  notion  of  man- 
kind respecting  this  term.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  first 
idea  comprised  in  the  word  civilization  (and  this  may  be 
gathered  from  the  various  examples  which  I  have  placed 
before  you)  is  the  notion  of  progress,  of  development. 
It  calls  up  within  us  the  notion  of  a  people  advancing, 
of  a  people  in  a  course  of  improvement  and  meliora- 
tion. 

Now  what  is  this  progress  1  What  is  this  development  1 
In  this  is  the  great  difficulty.  The  etymology  of  the  word 
seems  sufficiently  obvious — it  points  at  once  to  the  im- 
provement of  civil  life.  The  first  notion  which  strikes  us 
in  pronouncing  it  is  the  progress  of  society  ;  the  meliora- 
tion of  the  social  state  j  the  carrying  to  higher  perfection 
the  relations  between  man  and  man.  It  awakens  within  us 
at  once  the  notion  of  an  increase  of  national  prosperity,  of 
a  greater  activity  and  better  organization  of  the  social  re- 
lations. On  one  hand  there  is  a  manifest  increase  in  the 
power  and  well-being  of  society  at  large ;  and  on  the  other 
a  more  equitable  distribution  of  this  power  and  this  well- 
being  among  the  individuals  of  which  society  is  compo- 
sed. 

But  the  word  civilization  has  a  more  extensive  signifi- 
cation than  this,  which  seems  to  confine  it  to  the  mere 
outward,  physical  organization  of  society.  Now,  if  this 
were  all,  the  human  race  would  be  little  better  than  the 
inhabitants  of  an  ant-hill  or  bec'hive  j  a  society  in  which 
nothing  was  sought  for  beyond  order  and  well-being^ — in 
which  the  highest,  the  sole  aim,  would  be  the  produc- 
tion of  the  means  of  life,  and  their  equitable  distribu- 
tion, 

But  our  nature  at  once  rejects  this  definition  as  too  nar« 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN     EUROPE.  23 

row.  It  tells  us  that  man  is  formed  for  a  higher  destiny 
than  this.  That  this  is  not  the  full  development  of  his 
character — that  civilization  comprehends  something  more 
extensive,  something  more  complex,  something  superior 
to  the  perfection  of  social  relations,  of  social  power  and 
well-being. 

That  this  is  so,  we  have  not  merely  the  evidence  of  our 
nature,  and  that  derived  from  the  signification  which  the 
common  sense  of  mankind  has  attached  to  the  word  j  but 
we  have  likewise  the  evidence  of  facts. 

No  one,  for  example,  will  deny  that  there  are  commu- 
nities in  which  the  social  state  of  man  is  better — in  which 
the  means  of  life  are  better  supplied,  are  more  rapidly 
produced,  are  better  distributed,  than  in  others,  which  yet 
will  be  pronounced  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  mankind  to 
be  superior  in  point  of  civilization. 

Take  Kome,  for  example,  in  the  splendid  days  of  the 
republic,  at  the  close  of  the  second  Punic  war ;  the  mo- 
ment of  her  greatest  virtues,  when  she  was  rapidly  ad- 
vancing to  the  empire  of  the  world — when  her  social  con- 
dition was  evidently  improving.  Take  Rome  again  under 
Augustus,  at  the  commencement  of  her  decline,  when,  to 
say  the  least,  the  progressive  movement  of  society  halted, 
when  bad  principles  seemed  ready  to  prevail :  but  is  there 
any  person  who  would  not  say  that  Rome  was  more  civ- 
ilized under  Augustus  than  in  the  days  of  Fabricius  or 
Cincinnatus  1 

Let  us  look  further :  let  us  look  at  France  in  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries.  In  a  merely  social  point 
of  view,  as  respects  the  quantity  and  the  distribution  of 
well-being  among  individuals,  France,  in  the  sev^enteenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries,  was  decidedly  inferior  to  several 
of  the  other  states  of  Europe  ;  to  Holland  and  England  in 
particular.  Social  activity,  in  these  countries,  was  greater, 
increased  more  rapidly,  and  distributed  its  fruits  more 


24  GENERAL   HISTORY   Of    THE 

equitably  among  individuals.  Yet  consult  the  general 
opinion  of  mankind,  and  it  will  tell  you  that  France  in  the 
seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  was  the  most  civil- 
ized country  of  Europe.  Europe  has  not  hesitated  to  ac- 
knowledge this  fact,  and  evidence  of  its  truth  will  be 
found  in  all  the  great  works  of  European  literature. 

It  appears  evident,  then,  that  all  that  we  understand  by 
this  term  is  not  comprised  in  the  simple  idea  of  social 
well-being  and  happiness  ;  and,  if  we  look  a  little  deeper, 
we  discover  that,  besides  the  progress  and  melioration 
of  social  life,  another  development  is  comprised  in  our 
notion  of  civilization :  namely,  the  development  of  indi- 
vidual life,  the  development  of  the  human  mind  and  its 
faculties — the  development  of  man  himself. 

It  is  this  development  Avhich  so  strikingly  manifested  it- 
self in  France  and  Rome  at  these  epochs ;  it  is  this  ex- 
pansion of  human  intelligence  which  gave  to  them  so  great 
a  degree  of  superiority  in  civilization.  In  these  coun- 
tries the  godlike  principle  which  distinguishes  man  from 
the  brute  exhibited  itself  with  peculiar  grandeur  and  pow- 
er: and  compensated  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  for  the  de- 
fects of  their  social  system.  These  communities  had  still 
many  social  conquests  to  make  ;  but  they  had  already 
glorified  themselves  by  the  intellectual  and  moral  victo- 
ries they  had  achieved.  Many  of  the  conveniences  of 
life  were  here  wanting  ;  from  a  considerable  portion  of 
the  community  were  still  withheld  their  natural  rights  and 
political  privileges :  but  see  the  number  of  illustrious  in- 
dividuals who  lived  and  earned  the  applause  and  approba- 
tion of  their  fellow-men.  Here,  too,  literature,  science, 
and  art,  attained  extraordinary  perfection,  and  shone  in 
more  splendour  than  perhaps  they  had  ever  done  before. 
Now,  wherever  this  takes  place,  wherever  man  sees  these 
glorious  idols  of  his  worship  displayed  in  their  full  lus- 
tre,— wherever  he  sees  this  fund  of  rational  and  refined 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN   EUROPE.  25 

enjoyment  for  the  godlike  part  of  his  nature   called  into 
existence,  there  he  recognises  and  adores  civilization. 

Two  elements,  then,  seem  to  be  comprised  in  the  great 
fact  which  we  call  civilization; — two  circumstances  are 
necessary  to  its  existence — it  lives  upon  two  conditions — 
it  reveals  itself  by  two  symptoms  :  the  progress  of  socie- 
ty, the  progress  of  individuals ;  the  melioration  of  the 
social  system,  and  the  expansion  of  the  mind  and  faculties 
of  man.  Wherever  the  exterior  condition  of  man  be- 
comes enlarged,  quickened,  and  improved ;  wherever  the 
intellectual  nature  of  man  distinguishes  itself  by  its  en- 
ergy, brilliancy,  and  its  grandeur ;  wherever  these  two 
signs  concur,  and  they  often  do  so,  notwithstanding  the 
gravest  imperfections  in  the  social  system,  there  man  pro- 
claims and  applauds  civilization. 

Such,  if  I  mistake  not,  would  be  the  notion  mankind  in 
general  would  form  of  civilization,  from  a  simple  and  ra- 
tional inquiry  into  the  meaning  of  the  term.  This  view 
of  it  is  confirmed  by  History.  If  we  ask  of  her  what  has 
been  the  character  of  every  great  crisis  favorable  to  civ- 
ilization, if  we  examine  those  great  events  which  all  ac- 
knowledge to  have  carried  it  forward,  we  shall  always 
find  one  or  other  of  the  two  elements  which  I  have  just 
described.  They  have  all  been  epochs  of  individual  or 
social  improvement ;  events  which  have  either  wrought  a 
change  in  individual  man,  in  his  opinions,  his  manners  ;  or 
in  his  exterior  condition,  his  situation  as  regards  his  re- 
lations with  his  fellow-men.  Christianity,  for  example  : 
I  allude  not  merely  to  the  first  moment  of  its  appearance, 
but  to  the  first  centuries  of  its  existence — Christianity 
was  in  no  w^ay  addressed  to  the  social  condition  of  man  ; 
it  distinctly  disclaimed  all  interference  with  it.  It  com- 
manded the  slave  to  obey  his  master  It  attacked  none  of 
the  great  evils,  none  of  the  gross  acts  of  injustice,  by 
which  the  social  system  of  that  day  \vas  disfigured :  yet 
3 


26  GElvERAL   HISTORY    OF    THE 

who  but  will  acknowledge  that  Christianity  has  been  one 
of  the  greatest  promoters  of  civilization  1  And  where- 
fore 1  Because  it  has  changed  the  interior  condition  of 
man,  his  opinions,  his  sentiments  :  because  it  has  regen- 
erated his  moral,  his  intellectual  character. 

We  have  seen  a  crisis  of  an  opposite  nature ;  a  crisis 
affecting  not  the  intellectual,  but  the  outward  condition  of 
man,  which  has  changed  and  regenerated  society.  This 
also  we  may  rest  assured  is  a  decisive  crisis  of  civiliza- 
tion. If  we  search  history  through,  we  shall  every  where 
find  the  same  result  ;  we  shall  meet  with  no  important 
event,  which  had  a  direct  influence  in  the  advancement 
of  civilization,  which  has  not  exercised  it  in  one  of  the 
two  ways  I  have  just  mentioned. 

Having  thus,  as  I  hope,  given  you  a  clear  notion  of  the 
two  elements  of  which  civilization  is  composed,  let  us 
now  see  whether  one  of  them  alone  would  be  sufficient  to 
constitute  it :  whether  either  the  development  of  the  so- 
cial condition,  or  the  development  of  the  individual  man 
taken  separately,  deserves  to  be  regarded  as  civilization  1 
or  whether  these  two  events  are  so  intimately  connected, 
that,  if  they  are  not  produced  simultaneously,  they  are 
nevertheless  so  intimately  connected,  that,  sooner  or  later, 
one  uniformly  produces  the  other  1 

There  are  three  ways,  as  it  seems  to  me,  in  which  we 
may  attack  this  question.  First :  we  may  investigate  the 
nature  itself  of  the  two  elements  of  civilization,  and  see 
whether  by  that  they  are  strictly  and  necessarily  bound 
together.  Secondly :  we  may  examine  historically  whether, 
in  fact,  they  have  manifested  themselves  separately,  or 
whether  one  has  always  produced  the  other.  Thirdly  : 
we  may  consult  common  sense,  i.  e,  the  general  opinion 
of  mankind.  Let  us  first  address  ourselves  to  the  gen- 
eral opinion  of  mankind — to  common  sense. 

When  any  great  change  takes  place  in  the  state  of  a 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN    EUEOPE.  27 

countrj' — when  any  great  development  of  social  prospe- 
rity is  accomplished  within  it — any  revolution  or  reform 
in  the  powers  and  privileges  of  society,  this  new  event 
naturally  has  its  adversaries.  It  is  necessarily  contested 
and  opposed.  Now  what  are  the  objections  which  the 
adversaries  of  such  revolutions  brinor  against  them  1 

They  assert  that  this  progress  of  the  social  condition  is 
attended  with  no  advantage  :  that  it  does  not  improve  in 
a  corresponding  degree  the  moral  state — the  intellectual 
powers  of  man  ;  that  it  is  a  false,  deceitful  progress,  which 
proves  detrimental  to  his  moral  character,  to  the  true  in- 
terests of  his  better  nature.  On  the  other  hand,  this  attack 
is  repulsed  with  much  force  by  the  friends  of  the  move- 
ment. They  maintain  that  the  progress  of  society  neces- 
sarily leads  to  the  progress  of  intelligence  and  morality ; 
that,  in  proportion  as  the  social  life  is  better  regulated, 
individual  life  becomes  more  refined  and  virtuous.  Thus 
the  question  rests  in  abeyance  between  the  opposers  and 
partisans  of  the  change. 

But  reverse  this  hypothesis ;  suppose  the  moral  devel- 
opment in  progress.  What  do  the  men  who  labour  for  it 
generally  hope  for  I — What,  at  the  origin  of  societies, 
have  the  founders  of  religion,  the  sages,  poets,  and  phi- 
losophers, who  have  laboured  to  regulate  and  refine  the 
manners  of  mankind,  promised  themselves  \  What,  but  the 
melioration  of  the  social  condition ;  the  more  equitable 
distribution  of  the  blessings  of  life  1  What,  now,  let  me 
ask,  should  be  inferred  from  this  dispute  and  from  these 
hopes  and  promises  1  It  may,  I  think,  be  fairly  inferred 
that  it  is  the  spontaneous,  intuitive  conviction  of  man- 
kind, that  the  two  elements  of  civilization — the  social 
and  moral  development — are  intimately  connected ;  that, 
at  the  approach  of  one,  man  looks  for  the  other.  It  is  to 
this  natural  conviction  we  appeal  when,  to  second  or  com- 
bat either  one  or  the  other  of  the  two  elements,  we  deny 


28  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF   THE 

or  attest  its  union  with  the  other.  We  know  that  if  men 
were  persuaded  that  the  melioration  of  the  social  condi- 
tion would  operate  against  the  expansion  of  the  intellect, 
they  would  almost  oppose  and  cry  out  against  the  ad- 
vancement of  society.  On  the  other  hand,  when  we  speak 
to  mankind  of  improving  society  by  improving  its  indi- 
vidual members,  we  find  them  willing  to  believe  us,  and 
to  adopt  the  principle.  Hence  we  may  affirm  that  it  is 
the  intuitive  belief  of  man,  that  these  two  elements  of 
civilization  are  intimately  connected,  and  that  they  recip- 
rocally produce  one  another. 

If  we  now  examine  the  history  of  the  world  we  shall 
have  the  same  result.  We  shall  find  that  every  expansion 
of  human  intelligence  has  proved  of  advantage  to  society  j 
and  that  all  the  great  advances  in  the  social  condition 
have  turned  to  the  profit  of  humanity.  One  or  other  of 
these  facts  may  predominate,  may  shine  forth  with  greater 
splendour  for  a  season,  and  impress  upon  the  movement 
its  own  particular  character.  At  times,  it  may  not  be  till 
after  the  lapse  of  a  long  interval,  after  a  thousand  trans- 
formations, a  thousand  obstacles,  that  the  second  shows 
itself,  and  conies,  as  it  were,  to  complete  the  civilization 
which  the  first  had  begun  ;  but  when  we  look  closely  we 
easily  recognise  the  link  by  which  they  are  connected. 
The  movements  of  Providence  are  not  restricted  to  narrow 
bounds :  it  is  not  anxious  to  deduce  to-day  the  consequence 
of  the  premises  it  laid  down  yesterday.  It  may  defer  this 
for  ages,  till  the  fulness  of  time  shall  come.  Its  logic  will 
not  be  less  conclusive  for  reasoning  slowly.  Providence 
moves  through  time,  as  the  gods  of  Homer  through  space 
— it  makes  a  step,  and  ages  have  rolled  away !  How  long 
a  time,  how  many  circumstances  intervened,  before  the 
regeneration  of  the  moral  powers  of  man,  by  Christianity, 
exercised  its  great,  its  legitimate  influence  upon  his  social 
condition  ^.     Yet  who  can  doubt  or  mistake  its  power  1 


CIVILIZATION   OF    MODERN    EUROPE.  29 

If  we  pass  from  history  to  the  nature  itself  of  the  two 
facts  which  constitute  civilization,  we  are  infallibly  led  to 
the  same  result.  We  have  all  experienced  this.  If  a  man 
makes  a  mental  advance,  some  mental  discovery,  if  he 
acquires  some  new  idea,  or  some  new  faculty,  what  is  the 
desire  that  takes  possession  of  him  at  the  very  moment  he 
makes  it  1  It  is  the  desire  to  promulgate  his  sentiment  to 
the  exterior  world — to  publish  and  realize  his  thought. 
When  a  man  acquires  a  new  truth — when  his  being  in  his 
own  eyes  has  made  an  advance,  has  acquired  a  new  gift, 
immediately  there  becomes  joined  to  this  acquirement  the 
notion  of  a  mission.  He  feels  obliged,  impelled,  as  it 
were,  by  a  secret  interest,  to  extend,  to  carry  out  of  him- 
self the  change,  the  melioration  which  has  been  accom- 
plished within  him.  To  what,  but  this,  do  we  owe  the 
exertions  of  great  reformers!  The  exertions  of  those 
great  benefactors  of  the  human  race,  who  have  changed 
the  face  of  the  world,  after  having  first  been  changed 
themselves,  have  been  stimulated  and  governed  by  no 
other  impulse  than  this. 

So  much  for  the  change  which  takes  place  in  the  intel- 
lectual man.  Let  us  now  consider  him  in  a  social  state. 
A  revolution  is  made  in  the  condition  of  society.  Rights 
and  property  are  more  equitably  distributed  among  indi- 
viduals :  this  is  as  much  as  to  say,  the  appearance  of  the 
world  is  purer — is  more  beautiful.  The  state  of  things, 
both  as  respects  governments,  and  as  respects  men  in  their 
relations  with  each  other,  is  improved.  And  can  there  be 
a  question  whether  the  sight  of  this  goodly  spectacle, 
whether  the  melioration  of  this  external  condition  of 
man,  will  have  a  corresponding  influence  upon  his  moral, 
his  individual  character — upon  humanity  1  Such  a  doubt 
would  belie  all  that  is  said  of  the  authority  of  example, 
and  of  the  power  of  habit,  which  is  founded  upon  nothing 
but  the  conviction  that  exterior  facts  and  circumstances, 
3* 


30  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    THE 

if  good,  reasonable,  well-regulated,  are  followed,  sooner 
or  later,  more  or  less  completely,  by  intellectual  results 
of  the  same  nature,  of  the  same  beauty :  that  a  world 
better  governed,  better  regulated,  a  world  in  which  justice 
more  fully  prevails,  renders  man  himself  more  just.  That 
the  intellectual  man  then  is  instructed  and  improved  by 
the  superior  condition  of  society,  and  his  social  condition, 
his  external  well-being,  meliorated  and  refined  by  in- 
crease of  intelligence  in  individuals  :  that  the  two  ele- 
ments of  civilization  are  strictly  connected:  that  ages, 
that  obstacles  of  all  kinds,  may  interpose  between  them 
— that  it  is  possible  they  may  undergo  a  thousand  trans- 
formations before  they  meet  together  ;  but  that  sooner 
or  later  this  union  will  take  place  is  certain ;  for  it  is  a 
law  of  their  nature  that  they  should  do  so — the  great 
facts  of  history  bear  witness  that  such  is  really  the  case — 
the  instinctive  belief  of  man  proclaims  the  same  truth. 

Thus,  though  I  have  not  by  a  great  deal  advanced  all 
that  might  be  said  upon  this  subject,  I  trust  I  have  given 
a  tolerably  correct  and  adequate  notion,  in  the  foregoing 
cursory  account,  of  what  civilization  is,  of  what  are  its 
offices,  and  what  its  importance.  I  might  here  quit  the 
subject ;  but  I  cannot  part  with  it,  without  placing  before 
you  another  question,  which  here  naturally  presents  itself 
— a  question  not  purely  historical,  but  rather,  I  will  not  say 
hypothetical,  but  conjectural.  A  question  which  we  can 
see  here  but  in  part ;  but  which,  however,  is  not  less  real, 
but  presses  itself  upon  our  notice  at  every  turn  of  thought. 

Of  the  two  developments,  of  which  we  have  just  now 
spoken,  and  which  together  constitute  civilization, — of  the 
development  of  society  on  one  part,  and  of  the  expansion 
of  human  intelligence  on  the  other — which  is  the  endl 
which  are  the  means  ]  Is  it  for  the  improvement  of  the 
social  condition,  for  the  melioration  of  his  existence  upon 
the  earth,  that  man  fully  developes  himself,  his  mind,  his 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN    EUROPE.  31 

faculties,  his  sentiments,  his  ideas,  his  whole  being  1  Or 
is  the  melioration  of  the  social  condition,  the  progress  of 
society, — is  indeed  society  itself  merely  the  theatre,  the 
occasion,  the  motive  and  excitement  for  the  development 
of  the  individual  1  In  a  word,  is  society  formed  for  the  indi- 
vidual, or  the  individual  for  society  1  Upon  the  reply  to  this 
question  depends  our  knowledge  of  whether  the  destiny  of 
man  is  purely  social,  whether  society  exhausts  and  absorbs 
the  entire  man,  or  whether  he  bears  within  him  some- 
thing foreign,  something  superior  to  his  existence  in  this 
world  1 

One  of  the  greatest  philosophers  and  most  distinguish- 
ed men  of  the  present  age,  whose  words  become  indelibly 
engraved  upon  whatever  spot  they  fall,  has  resolved  this 
question  ;  he  has  resolved  it,  at  least,  according  to  his 
own  conviction.  The  following  are  his  words  :  "  Human 
societies  are  born,  live,  and  die,  upon  the  earth  ',  there 
they  accomplish  their  destinies.  But  they  contain  not  the 
whole  man.  After  his  engagement  to  society  there  still 
remains  in  him  the  more  noble  part  of  his  nature ;  those 
high  faculties  by  which  he  elevates  himself  to  God,  to  a 
future  life,  and  to  the  unknown  blessings  of  an  invisible 
world.  We,  individuals,  each  with  a  separate  and  dis- 
tinct existence,  with  an  identical  person,  we,  truly  beings 
endowed  w4th  immortality,  we  have  a  higher  destiny  than 
that  of  states."* 

I  shall  add  nothing  on  this  subject ;  it  is  not  my  province 
to  handle  it :  it  is  enough  for  me  to  have  placed  it  before 
you.  It  haunts  us  again  at  the  close  of  the  history  of 
civilization. — Where  the  history  of  civilization  ends,  when 
there  is  no  more  to  be  said  of  the  present  life,  man  invinci- 
bly demands  if  all  is  over — if  that  be  the  end  of  all  things  1 
This,  then,  is  the  last  problem,  and  the  grandest,  to  which 


♦  Opinion  De  RoYER  CoLLARD,  sur  le  projet  de  loi  r^latifau  sacrilege, 
pp.  7  et  17. 


3^  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    THfi 

the  history  of  civilization  can  lead  us.    It  is  sufficient  that 
I  have  marked  its  place,  and  its  sublime  character. 

From  the  foregoing  remarks,  it  becomes  evident  that  the 
history  of  civilization  may  be  considered  from  two  differ- 
ent points  of  view — may  be   drawn  from  two  different 
sources.     The   historian  may  take  up  his  abode  during 
the  time  prescribed,  say  a  series  of  centuries,  in  the  hu- 
man soul,  or  with  some  particular  nation.    He  may  study, 
describe,  relate,  all  the  circumstances,  all  the  transforma- 
tions, all  the  revolutions,  which  may  have  taken  place  in 
the  intellectual  man  ;  and  when  he  had  done  this  he  would 
have  a  history  of  the  civilization  among  the  people,  or 
during  the  period  which  he  had  chosen.     He  might  pro- 
ceed differently  :  instead  of  entering  into  the  interior  of 
man,  he  might  take  his  stand  in  the  external  world.     He 
might  take  his  station  in  the  midst  of  the  great  theatre  of 
life  :  instead  of  describing  the   change  of  ideas,   of  the 
sentiments  of  the  individual  being,  he  might  describe  his 
exterior  circumstances,  the  events,  the  revolutions  of  his 
social  condition.     These  two  portions,  these  two  histories 
of  civilization,  are  strictly  connected  with  each  other ; 
they  are  the  counterpart,  the  reflecteJ  image  of  one  ano- 
ther.    They  may,  however,  be  separated.     Perhaps  it  is 
necessary,  at  least  in  the  beginning,  in  order  to  be  exposed 
in  detail  and  with  clearness,  that  they  should  be.     For  my 
part  I  have  no  intention,  upon  the  present  occasion,  to 
enter  upon  the  history  of  civilization  in  the  human  mind  ; 
the  history  of  the  exterior  events  of  the  visible  and  social 
world  is  that  to  which  I  shall  call  your  attention.     It 
would  give  me  pleasure  to  be  able  to  display  before  you 
the  phenomenon  of  civilization  in  the  way  I  understand 
it,  in  all  its  bearings,  in  its  widest  extent — to  place  before 
you  all  the  vast  questions  to  which  it  gives  rise.    But,  for 
the  present,  I  must  restrain  my  wishes  j  I  must  confine 
myself  to  a  narrower  field  :  it  is  only  the  history   of  the 
social  state  that  I  shall  attempt  to  narrate. 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN    EUROPE.  33 

My  first  object  will  be  to  seek  out  the  elements  of  Eu- 
ropean civilization  at  the  time  of  its  birth,  at  the  fall  of  the 
Roman  empire — to  examine  carefully  society  such  as  it  was 
in  the  midst  of  these  famous  ruins.  I  shall  endeavour  to 
pick  out  these  elements,  and  to  place  them  before  you,  side 
by  side  ;  I  shall  endeavour  to  put  them  in  motion,  and  to 
follow  them  in  their  progress  through  the  fifteen  centu- 
ries which  have  rolled  away  since  that  epoch. 

We  shall  not,  I  think,  proceed  far  in  this  study,  without 
being  convinced  that  civilization  is  still  in  its  infancy.  How 
distant  is  the  human  mind  from  the  perfection  to  which  it 
may  attain — from  the  perfection  for  which  it  was  created! 
How  incapable  are  we  of  grasping  the  whole  future  destiny 
of  man !  Let  any  one  even  descend  into  his  own  mind — 
let  him  picture  there  the  highest  point  of  perfection  to 
which  man,  to  which  society  may  attain,  that  he  can  con- 
ceive, that  he  can  hope  ; — let  him  then  contrast  this  picture 
with  the  present  state  of  the  world,  and  he  will  feel  assured 
that  society  and  civilization  are  still  in  their  childhood : 
that  however  great  the  distance  they  have  advanced,  that 
whicli  they  have  before  them  is  incomparably,  is  infinitely 
greater.  This,  however,  should  not  lessen  the  pleasure 
with  which  we  contemplate  our  present  condition.  When 
you  have  run  over  w4th  me  the  great  epochs  of  civilization 
during  the  last  fifteen  centuries,  you  will  see,  up  to  our 
time,  how  painful,  how  stormy,  has  been  the  condition  of 
man  ;  how  hard  has  been  his  lot,  not  only  outwardly  as  re- 
gards society,but  internally,  as  regards  the  intellectualman. 
For  fifteen'centuries  the  human  mind  has  suffered  as  much 
as  the  human  race.  You  will  see  that  it  is  only  lately  that 
the  human  mind,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  has  arrived,  im- 
perfect though  its  condition  still  be,  to  a  state  where  some 
peace,  some  harmony,  some  freedom  is  found.  The  same 
holds  with  regard  to  society— its  immense  progress  is  evi- 
dent— the  condition  of  man,  compared  with  what  it  has 


34  GENERAL    HISTORY   OF    THE 

been,  is  easy  and  just.     In  thinking  of  our  ancestors  we 
may  almost  apply  to  ourselves  the  verses  of  Lucretius : — 

"  Suave  mari  magno,  turbantibus  aequora  ventis, 
E  terra  magnum  alterius  spectare  laborcm." 

Without  any  great  degree  of  pride  we  may,  as  Sthenelas 
is  made  to  do  in  Homer,  H/xsi.;  to/  irarspuv  ixsy'  ccfxs.vovsj 
£up(;oja£5'  sjvav,  "Return  thanks  to  God  that  we  are  infinite- 
ly better  than  our  fathers." 

We  must  however  take  care  not  to  deliver  ourselves  up 
too  fully  to  a  notion  of  our  happiness  and  our  improved 
condition.  It  may  lead  us  into  two  serious  evils,  pride 
and  inactivity ; — it  may  give  us  an  overweening  confidence 
in  the  power  and  success  of  the  human  mind,  of  its  present 
attainments  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  dispose  us  to  apathy, 
enervated  by  the  agreeableness  of  our  condition.  I  know 
not  if  this  strikes  you  as  it  does  me,  but  in  my  judgment 
we  continually  oscillate  between  an  inclination  to  complain 
without  sufficient  cause,  and  to  be  too  easily  satisfied.  We 
have  an  extreme  susceptibility  of  mind,  an  inordinate  crav- 
ing, an  ambition  in  our  thoughts,  in  our  desires,  and  in  the 
movements  of  our  imagination ;  yet  when  we  come  to 
practical  life — when  trouble,  when  sacrifices,  when  efforts 
are  required  for  the  attainment  of  our  object,  we  sink  into 
lassitude  and  inactivity.  We  are  discouraged  almost  as 
easily  as  we  had  been  excited.  Let  us  not,  however,  suffer 
ourselves  to  be  invaded  by  either  of  these  vices.  Let  us 
estimate  fairly  what  our  abilities,  our  knowledge, our  power 
enable  us  to  do  lawfully  ;  and  let  us  aim  at  nothing  that 
we  cannot  lawfully,  justly,  prudently — with  a  proper  re- 
spect to  the  great  principles  upon  which  our  social  system, 
our  civilization  is  based — attain.  The  age  of  barbarian 
Europe,  with  its  brute  force,  its  violence,  its  lies  and  de- 
ceit,— the  habitual  practice  under  which  Europe  groaned 
during  four  or  five  centuries  are  passed  away  for  ever,  and 


\ 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN    EUROPE.  35 

has  given  place  to  abetter  order  of  things.  We  trust  that 
the  time  now  approaches  when  man's  condition  shall  be 
progressively  improved  by  the  force  of  reason  and  truth, 
when  the  brute  part  of  nature  shall  be  crushed,  that  the 
godlike  spirit  may  unfold.  In  the  mean  time  let  us  be 
cautious  that  no  vague  desires,  that  no  extravagant  theo- 
ries, the  time  for  which  may  not  yet  be  come,  carry  us  be- 
yond the  bounds  of  prudence,  or  beget  in  us  a  discontent 
with  our  present  state.  To  us  much  has  been  given,  of 
us  much  will  be  required.  Posterity  will  demand  a  strict 
account  of  our  conduct — the  public,  the  government,  all 
is  now  open  to  discussion,  to  examination.  Let  us  then 
attach  ourselves  firmly  to  the  principles  of  our  civilization, 
to  justice,  to  the  laws,  to  liberty  ;  and  never  forget,  that, 
if  we  have  the  right  to  demand  that  all  things  shall  be  laid 
open  before  us,  and  judged  by  us,  we  likewise  are  before 
the  world,  who  will  examine  us,  and  judge  us  according 
to  our  works. 


LECTURE    II.* 

OF  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION  IN  PARTICULAR  I  ITS  DISTINGUISHING 
CHARACTERISTICS ITS  SUPERIORITY— ITS  ELEMENTS. 

In  the  preceding  Lecture  I  endeavoured  to  give  an  ex- 
planation of  civilization  in  general.  Without  referring  to 
any  civilization  in  particular,  or  to  circumstances  of  time 
and  place,  I  essayed  to  place  it  before  you  in  a  point  of 
view  purely  philosophical.  I  purpose  now  to  enter  upon 
the  History  of  the  Civilization  of  Europe  ;  but  before  do- 
ing so,  before  going  into  its  proper  history,  I  must  make 
you  acquainted  with  the  peculiar  character  of  this  civiliza- 
tion— with  its  distinguishing  features,  so  that  you  may  be 
able  to  recognise  and  distinguish  European  civilization 
from  every  other. 

When  we  look  at  the  civilizations  which  have  preceded 
that  of  modern  Europe,  whether  in  Asia,  or  elsewhere,  in- 
cluding even  those  of  Greece  and  Rome,  it  is  impossible 
not  to  be  struck  with  the  unity  of  character  which  reigns 
among  them.  Each  appears  as  though  it  had  emanated 
from  a  single  fact,  from  a  single  idea.  One  might  almost 
assert  that  society  was  under  the  influence  of  one  single 
principle,  which  universally  prevailed  and  determined  the 
character  of  its  institutions,  its  manners,  its  opinions — in 
a  word,  all  its  developments. 

♦  This  lecture,  in  the  original,  is  introduced  by  a  few  words,  in  which 
the  author  offers  to  explain  privately  any  points  of  his  discourse,  not  well 
understood,  to  such  as  shall  apply;  also  to  state  that  he  is  obliged  fre- 
quently to  make  assertions  without  being  able,  from  the  short  time  allot- 
ted him,  to  give  the  proofs  they  seem  to  require. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN   EUROPE.  37 

In  Egypt,  for  e-xample,  it  was  the  theoretic  principle 
that  took  possession  of  society,  and  showed  itself  in  its 
manners,  in  its  monuments,  and  in  all  that  is  come  down  to 
us  of  Egyptian  civilization.  In  India  the  same  phenome- 
non occurs — it  is  still  a  repetition  of  the  almost  exclusive- 
ly prevailing  influence  of  theocracy.  In  other  regions  a 
different  organization  may  be  observed — perhaps  the  domi- 
nation of  a  conquering  caste  :  and  where  such  is  the  case, 
the  principle  of  force  takes  entire  possession  of  society, 
imposing  upon  it  its  laws  and  its  character.  In  another 
place,  perhaps,  we  discover  society  under  the  entire  influ- 
ence of  the  democratic  principle  ;  such  was  the  case  in  the 
commercial  republics  which  covered  the  coasts  of  Asia 
Minor  and  Syria — in  Ionia  and  Phoenicia.  In  a  word, 
whenever  v/e  contemplate  the  civilizations  of  the  ancients, 
we  find  them  all  impressed  with  one  ever-prevailing  cha- 
racter of  unity,  visible  in  their  institutions,  their  ideas, 
and  manners — one  sole,  or  at  least  one  very  preponderat- 
ing influence,  seems  to  govern  and  determine  all  things. 

I  do  not  mean  to  aver  that  this  overpowering  influence 
of  one  single  principle,  of  one  single  form,  prevailed  with- 
out any  exception  in  the  civilization  of  those  states.  If 
we  go  back  to  their  earliest  history,  we  shall  find  that  the 
various  powers  which  dwelt  in  the  bosom  of  these  socie- 
ties frequently  struggled  for  mastery.  Thus  among  the 
Egyptians,  the  Etruscans,  even  among  the  Greeks  and 
others,  we  may  observe  the  warrior  caste  struggling 
against  that  of  the  priests.  In  other  places  we  find  the 
spirit  of  clanship  struggling  against  the  spirit  of  free  as- 
sociation, the  spirit  of  aristocracy  against  popular  rights. 
These  struggles,  however,  mostly  took  place  in  periods 
beyond  the  reach  of  history,  and  no  evidence  of  them  is 
left  beyond  a  vague  tradition. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  these  early  struggles  broke  out 
afresh  at  a  later  period  in  the  history  of  the  nations  j 

4 


38  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

but  in  almost  every  case  they  were  quickly  terminated  by 
the  victory  of  one  of  the  powers  which  sought  to  prevail, 
and  which  then  took  sole  possession  of  society.  The 
war  always  ended  by  the  domination  of  some  special 
principle,  which,  if  not  exclusive,  at  least  greatly  prepon- 
derated. The  co-existence  and  strife  of  various  princi- 
ples among  these  nations  was  no  more  than  a  passing,  an 
accidental  circumstance. 

From  this  cause  a  remarkable  unity  characterizes  most 
of  the  civilizations  of  antiquity,  the  results  of  which, 
however,  were  very  different.  In  one  nation,  as  in  Greece, 
the  unity  of  the  social  principle  led  to  a  development  of 
wonderful  rapidity ;  no  other  people  ever  ran  so  brilliant 
a  career  in  so  short  a  time.  But  Greece  had  hardly  be- 
come glorious,  before  she  appeared  worn  out :  her  decline, 
if  not  quite  so  rapid  as  her  rise,  was  strangely  sudden. 
It  seems  as  if  the  principle  which  called  Greek  civiliza- 
tion (into  life)  was  exhausted.  No  other  came  to  invigo- 
rate it,  or  supply  its  place. 

In  other  states,  say,  for  example,  in  India  and  Egypt, 
where  again  only  one  principle  of  civilization  prevailed, 
the  result  was  different.  Society  here  became  station- 
ary, simplicity  produced  monotony ;  the  country  was 
not  destroyed;  society  continued  to  exist;  but  there  was 
no  progression  ;  it  remained  torpid  and  inactive. 

To  this  same  cause  must  be  attritnited  that  character 
of  tyranny  which  prevailed,  under  various  names,  and  the 
most  opposite  forms,  in  all  the  civilizations  of  antiquity. 
Society  belonged  to  one  exclusive  power,  which  could 
bear  with  no  other.  Every  principle  (  i  a  different  ten- 
dency was  proscribed.  The  governing  principle  would 
nowhere  suffer  by  its  side  the  manifestation  and  influence 
of  a  rival  principle. 

T-iis  character  of  simplicity,  of  unity,  in  their  civilization, 
is  equally  impressed  upon  their  literature  and  intellectual 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  39 

productions.  Who  that  has  run  over  the  monuments  of 
Hindoo  literature,  lately  introduced  into  Europe,  but  has 
seen  that  they  are  all  struck  from  the  same  die  1  They 
all  seem  the  result  of  one  same  fact ;  the  expression  of 
one  same  idea.  Religious  and  moral  treatises,  historical 
traditions,  dramatic  poetry,  epics,  all  bear  the  same  phy- 
siognomy. The  same  character  of  unity  and  monotony 
shines  out  in  these  works  of  mind  and  fancy,  as  we  dis- 
cover in  their  life  and  institutions.  Even  in  Greece,  not- 
withstanding the  immense  stores  of  knowledge  and  intel- 
lect which  it  poured  forth,  a  wonderful  unity  still  pre- 
vailed in  all  relating  to  literature  and  the  arts. 

How  different  to  all  this  is  the  case  as  respects  the  civi- 
lization of  modern  Europe  !  Take  ever  so  rapid  a  glance 
at  this,  and  it  strikes  you  at  once  as  diversified,  confused, 
and  stormy.  All  the  principles  of  social  organization  are 
found  existing  together  within  it ;  powers  temporal,  pow- 
ers spiritual,  the  theoretic,  monarchic,  aristocratic,  and 
democratic  elements,  all  classes  of  society,  all  the  social 
situations,  are  jumbled  together,  and  visible  within  it ;  as 
well  as  infinite  gradations  of  liberty,  of  wealth,  and  of  in- 
fluence. These  various  powers,  too,  are  found  here  in  a 
state  of  continual  struggle  among  themselves,  without 
any  one  having  sufficient  force  to  master  the  others,  and 
take  sole  possession  of  society.  Among  the  ancients,  at 
every  great  epoch,  all  communities  seem  cast  in  the  same 
mould  :  it  was  now  pure  monarchy,  now  theocracy  or  de- 
mocracy, that  became  the  reigning  principle,  each  in  its 
turn  reigning  absolutely.  But  modern  Europe  contains 
examples  of  all  these  systems,  of  all  the  attempts  at  social 
organization ;  pure  and  mixed  monarchies,  theocracies, 
republics  more  or  less  aristocratic,  all  live  in  common,  side 
by  side,  at  one  and  the  same  time ;  yet,  notwithstanding 
their  diversity,  they  all  bear  a  certain  resemblance  to  each 
other,  a  kind  of  family  likeness  which  it  is  impossible  to 


40  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

mistake,  and  which  shows  them  to  be  essentially  Euro- 
pean. 

In  the  moral  character,  in  the  notions  and  sentiments 
of  Europe,  we  find  the  same  variety,  the  same  struggle. 
Theoretical  opinions,  monarchical  opinions,  aristocratic 
opinions,  democratic  opinions,  cross  and  jostle,  struggle, 
become  interwoven,  limit,  and  modify  each  other.  Open 
the  boldest  treatises  of  the  middle  age  :  in  none  of  them 
is  an  opinion  carried  to  its  final  consequences.  The  ad- 
vocates of  absolute  power  flinch,  almost  unconsciously, 
from  the  results  to  which  their  doctrine  would  carry  them. 
We  see  that  the  ideas  and  influences  around  them  frighten 
them  from  pushing  it  to  its  uttermost  point.  Democracy 
felt  the  same  control.  That  imperturbable  boldness,  so 
striking  in  ancient  civilizations,  nowhere  found  a  place  in\ 
the  European  system.  In  sentiments  we  discover  the  same* 
contrasts,  the  same  variety  ;  an  indomitable  taste  for  inde- 
pendence dwelling  by  the  side  of  the  greatest  aptness  for 
submission  ;  a  singular  fidelity  between  man  and  man,  and 
at  the  same  time  an  imperious  desire  in  each  to  do  his  own 
will,  to  shake  off  all  restraint,  to  live  alone,  without  trou- 
bling himself  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  Minds  were  as 
much  diversified  as  society. 

The  same  characteristic  is  observable  in  literature.  It 
cannot  be  denied  that  in  what  relates  to  the  form  and  beau- 
ty of  art,  modern  Europe  is  very  inferior  to  antiquity  ;  but 
if  we  look  at  her  literature  as  regards  depth  of  feeling  and 
ideas,  it  will  be  found  more  powerful  and  rich.  The  human 
mind  has  been  employed  upon  a  greater  number  of  objects, 
its  labours  have  been  more  diversified,  it  has  gone  to  a 
greater  depth.  Its  imperfection  in  form  is  owing  to  this 
very  cause.  The  more  plenteous  and  rich  the  materials, 
the  greater  is  the  difficulty  of  forcing  them  into  a  pure  and 
simple  form.  That  which  gives  beauty  to  a  composition, 
that  which  in  works  of  art  we  call  form,  is  the  cle^irness,  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  41 

simplicity,  the  symbolical  unity  of  the  work.  With  the 
prodigious  diversity  of  ideas  and  sentiments  which  belong 
to  European  civilization,  the  difficulty  to  attain  this  grand 
and  chaste  simplicity  has  been  increased. 

In  every  part,  then,  we  find  this  character  of  variety  to 
prevail  in  modern  civilization.  It  has  undoubtedly  brought 
with  it  this  inconvenience,  that  when  we  consider  separate- 
ly any  particular  development  of  the  human  mind  in  litera- 
ture, in  the  arts,  in  any  of  the  ways  in  which  human  intelli- 
gence may  go  forward,  we  shall  generally  find  it  inferior  to 
the  corresponding  development  in  the  civilization  of  anti- 
quity ;  but,  as  a  set-off  to  this,  when  we  regard  it  as  a  whole, 
European  civilization  appears  incomparably  more  rich  and 
diversified:  if  each  particular  fruit  has  not  attained  the 
same  perfection,  it  has  ripened  an  infinitely  greater  variety. 
Ao-ain,  European  civilization  has  now  endured  fifteen  cen- 
turies, and  in  all  that  time  it  has  been  in  a  state  of  progres- 
sion. It  may  be  true  that  it  has  not  advanced  so  rapidly  as 
the  Greek  ;  but,  catching  new  impulses  at  every  step,  it  is 
still  adv-ancing.  An  unbounded  career  is  open  before  it ; 
and  from  day  to  day  it  presses  forward  to  the  race  with  in- 
creasing rapidity,  because  increased  freedom  attends  upon 
all  its  movements.  While  in  other  civilizations  the  exclu- 
sive domination,  or  at  least  the  excessive  preponderance  of 
a  single  principle,  of  a  single  form,  led  to  tyranny,  in  mod- 
ern Europe  the  diversity  of  the  elements  of  social  order, 
the  incapability  of  any  one  to  exclude  the  rest,  gave  birth 
to  the  liberty  which  now  prevails.  The  inability  of  the  va- 
rious principles  to  exterminate  one  another  compelled  each 
to  endure  the  others,  made  it  necessary  for  them  to  live  in 
common,  for  them  to  enter  into  a  sort  of  mutual  under- 
standing. Each  consented  to  have  only  that  part  of  civil- 
ization which  fell  to  its  share.  Thus,  while  everywhere 
else  the  predominance  of  one  principle  has  produced  tyr- 
anny, the  variety  of  elements  of  European  civilization,  and 
the  constant  warfare  in  which  they  have  been  engaged, 

4* 


42  GEA'ERAL   HISTORY    OF 

have  given  birth  in  Europe  to  that  liberty  which  we  prize 
so  dearly. 

It  is  this  which  gives  to  European  civilization  its  real, 
its  immense  superiority — it  is  this  which  forms  its  essen- 
tial, its  distinctive  character.  And  if,  carrying  our  views 
still  further,  we  penetrate  beyond  the  surface  into  the 
very  nature  of  things,  we  shall  lind  that  this  superiority  is 
legitimate — that  it  is  acknowledged  by  reason  as  well  as 
proclaimed  by  facts.  Quitting  for  a  moment  European 
civilization,  and  taking  a  glance  at  the  Avorld  in  general, 
at  the  common  course  of  earthly  things,  what  is  the  char- 
acter we  find  it  to  bear  ]  What  do  we  here  perceive  1 
Why  just  that  very  same  diversity,  that  very  same  variety 
of  elements,  that  very  same  struggle  which  is  so  striking- 
ly evinced  in  European  civilization.  It  is  plain  enough 
that  no  single  principle,  no  particular  organization,  no 
simple  idea,  no  special  power  has  ever  been  permitted  to 
obtain  possession  of  the  world,  to  mould  it  into  a  durable 
form,  and  to  drive  from  it  every  opposing  tendency,  so  as 
to  reign  itself  supreme.  Various  powers,  principles,  and 
systems  here  intermingle,  modify  one  another,  and  strug- 
gle incessantly — now  subduing,  now  subdued — never  whol- 
ly conquered,  never  conquering.  Such  is  apparently  the 
general  state  of  the  world,  while  diversity  of  forms,  of 
ideas,  of  principles,  their  struggles  and  their  energies,  all 
tend  towards  a  certain  unity,  a  certain  ideal,  which,  though 
perhaps  it  may  never  be  attained,  mankind  is  constantly 
approaching  by  dint  of  liberty  and  labour.  Hence  Euro- 
pean civilization  is  the  reflected  image  of  the  w^orld — hke 
the  course  of  earthly  things,  it  is  neither  narroAvly  circum- 
scribed, exclusive,  nor  stationary.  For  the  first  time,  civ- 
ilization appears  to  have  divested  itself  of  its  special  char- 
acter :  its  development  presents  itself  for  the  first  time 
under  as  diversified,  as  abundant,  as  laborious  an  aspect  as 
the  great  theatre  of  the  universe  itself. 

European  civiUzation  has,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  ex- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  43 

pression,  at  last  penetrated  into  the  ways  of  eternal  truth 
— into  the  scheme  of  Providence  ; — it  moves  in  the  ways 
which  God  has  prescribed.  This  is  the  rational  principle 
of  its  superiority. 

Let  it  not,  I  beseech  you,  be  forgotten — bear  in  mind, 
as  we  proceed  with  these  lectures,  that  it  is  in  this  diver- 
sity of  elements,  and  their  constant  struggle,  that  the  es- 
sential character  of  our  civilization  consists.  At  present 
I  can  do  no  more  than  assert  this ;  its  proof  will  be  found 
in  the  facts  I  shall  bring  before  you.  Still  I  think  you 
will  acknowledge  it  to  be  a  confirmation  of  this  assertion, 
if  I  can  show  you,  that  the  causes,  and  the  elements  of  the 
character  which  I  have  just  attributed  to.it,  can  be  traced 
to  the  very  cradle  of  our  civilization.  If,  I  say,  at  the 
very  moment  of  her  birth,  at  the  very  hour  in  which  the 
Roman  empire  fell,  I  can  show  you,  in  the  state  of  the 
world,  the  circumstances  which,  from  the  beginning,  have 
concurred  to  give  to  European  civilization  that  agitated 
and  diversified,  but  at  the  same  time  prolific,  character 
which  distinguishes  it,  I  think  I  shall  have  a  strong  claim 
upon  your  assent  to  its  truth.  In  order  to  accomplish 
this,  I  shall  begin  by  investigating  the  condition  of  Europe 
at  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire,  so  that  we  may  discover 
in  its  institutions,  in  its  opinions,  its  ideas,  its  sentiments, 
what  were  the  elements  which  the  ancient  world  be- 
queathed to  the  modern.  And  upon  these  elements  you 
will  see  strongly  impressed  the  character  which  I  have 
just  described. 

It  is  necessary  that  Ave  should  first  see  what  the  Roman 
empire  was,  and  how  it  was  formed. 

Rome  in  its  origin  was  a  mere  municipahty,  a  corpora- 
tion. The  Roman  government  was  nothing  more  than  an 
assemblage  of  institutions  suitable  to  a  population  enclosed 
within  the  walls  of  a  city  ;  that  is  to  say,  they  were  mu- 
nicipal  institutions  \ — this  was  their  distinctive  character. 


M<  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

This  was  not  peculiar  to  Rome.  If  we  look,  in  this  pe- 
riod, at  the  part  of  Italy  which  surrounded  Rome,  we  find 
nothinnr  but  cities.  What  were  then  called  nations  were 
nothing  more  than  confederations  of  cities.  The  Latin 
nation  was  a  confederation  of  Latin  cities.  The  Etruri- 
ans, the  Samnites,  the  Sabines,  the  nations  of  Magna  Grse- 
cia,  were  all  composed  in  the  same  way. 

At  this  time  there  were  no  country  places,  no  villages ; 
at  least  the  country  was  nothing  like  what  it  is  in  the  pre- 
sent day.  It  was  cultivated,  no  doubt,  but  it  was  not  peo- 
pled. The  proprietors  of  lands  and  of  country  estates 
dwelt  in  cities  ;  they  left  these  occasionally  to  visit  their 
rural  property,  where  they  usually  kept  a  certain  number 
of  slaves  ;  but  that  which  we  now  call  the  country,  that  scat- 
tered population,  sometimes  in  lone  houses,  sometimes  in 
hamlets  and  villages,  and  which  everywhere  dots  our  land 
with  agricultural  dwellings,  was  altogether  unknown  in 
ancient  Italy. 

And  what  was  the  case  when  Rome  extended  her  bound- 
aries 1  If  we  foDow  her  history,  we  shall  find  that  she 
conquered  or  founded  a  host  of  cities.  It  was  with  cities 
she  fought,  it  was  with  cities  she  treated,  it  was  into  cities 
she  sent  colonies.  In  short,  the  history  of  the  conquest  of 
the  world  by  Rome  is  the  history  of  the  conquest  and 
foundation  of  a  vast  number  of  cities.  It  is  true  that  in 
the  East  the  extension  of  the  Roman  dominion  bore  some- 
what of  a  difierent  character;  the  population  was  not  dis- 
tributed there  in  the  same  way  as  in  the  western  world  ; 
it  was  under  a  social  system,  partaking  more  of  the  patri- 
archal form,  and  was  consequently  much  less  concentrated 
in  cities.  But,  as  we  have  only  to  do  with  the  population 
of  Europe,  I  shall  not  dwell  upon  what  relates  to  that  of 
the  East. 

Confining  ourselves,  then,  to  the  West,  we  shall  find  the 
fact  to  be  such  as  I  have  described  it.     In  the  Gauls,  in 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN   EUROPE.  45 

Spain,  we  meet  with  nothing  but  cities.  At  any  distance 
from  these,  the  country  consisted  of  marshes  and  forests. 
Examine  the  character  of  the  monuments  left  us  of  ancient 
Eome — the  old  Roman  roads.  We  find  great  roads  ex- 
tending from  city  to  city  ;  but  the  thousands  of  little  bye- 
paths,  which  now  intersect  every  part  of  the  country, 
were  then  unknown.  Neither  do  we  find  any  traces  of 
that  immense  number  of  lesser  objects — of  churches,  cas- 
tles, country-seats,  and  villages,  which  were  spread  all 
over  the  country  during  the  middle  ages.  Rome  has  left 
no  traces  of  this  kind;  her  only  bequest  consists  of  vast 
monuments  impressed  with  a  municipal  character,  des- 
tined for  a  numerous  population,  crowded  into  a  single 
spot.  In  whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  the  Roman 
world,  you  meet  with  this  almost  exclusive  preponderance 
of  cities,  and  an  absence  of  country  populations  and 
dwellings.  This  municipal  character  of  the  Roman  world 
evidently  rendered  the  unity,  the  social  tie  of  a  great 
state,  extremely  difficult  to  establish  and  maintain. 

A  municipal  corporation  like  Rome  might  be  able  to 
conquer  the  world,  but  it  was  a  much  more  difficult  task  to 
govern  it,  to  mould  it  into  one  compact  body.  Thus,  when 
the  work  seemed  done,  when  all  the  West  and  a  great  part 
of  the  East  had  submitted  to  the  Roman  yoke,  we  find  an 
immense  host  of  cities,  of  little  states,  formed  for  separate 
existence  and  independence,  breaking  their  chains,  es- 
caping on  every  side.  This  was  one  of  the  causes  which 
made  the  establishment  of  the  empire  necessary  ;  which 
called  for  a  more  concentrated  form  of  government,  one 
better  able  to  hold  together  elements  which  had  so  few 
points  of  cohesion.  The  empire  endeavoured  to  unite  and  to 
bind  together  this  extensive  and  scattered  society;  and  to 
a  certain  point  it  succeeded.  Between  the  reigns  of  Au- 
gustus and  Dioclesian,  during  the  very  time  that  her  ad- 
mirable civil  legislation  was  being  carried  to  perfection, 


46  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

that  vast  and  despotic  administration  was  established, 
which,  spreading-  over  the  empire  a  sort  of  chain-work  of 
functionaries  subordinately  arranged,  firmly  knit  together 
the  people  and  the  imperial  court,  serving  at  the  same  time 
to  convey  to  society  the  will  of  the  government,  and  to 
bring  to  the  government  the  tribute  and  obedience  of  so- 
ciety. 

This  system,  besides  rallying  the  forces,  and  holding 
together  the  elements,  of  the  Roman  world,  introduced 
with  wonderful  celerity  into  society  a  taste  for  despotism, 
for  central  power.  It  is  truly  astonishing  to  see  how  rap- 
idly this  incoherent  assemblage  of  little  republics,  this  as- 
sociation of  municipal  corporations,  sunk  into  an  humble 
and  obedient  respect  for  the  sacred  name  of  emperor. 
The  necessity  for  establishing  some  tie  between  all  these 
parts  of  the  Roman  world  must  have  been  very  apparent 
and  powerful,  otherwise  we  can  hardly  conceive  how  the 
spirit  of  despotism  could  so  easily  have  made  its  way  into 
the  minds  and  almost  into  the  affections  of  the  people. 

It  was  with  this  spirit,  with  this  administrative  organi- 
zation, and  with  the  military  system  connected  with  it, 
that  the  Roman  empire  struggled  against  the  dissolution 
which  was  working  within  it,  and  against  the  barbarians 
who  attacked  it  from  without.  But,  though  it  struggled 
long,  the  day  at  length  arrived  when  all  the  skill  and  power 
of  despotism,  when  all  the  pliancy  of  servitude,  was 
insufficient  to  prolong  its  fate.  In  the  fourth  century  all 
the  ties  which  had  held  this  immense  body  together,  seem 
to  have  been  loosened  or  snapped  j  the  barbarians  broke 
in  on  every  side ;  the  provinces  no  longer  resisted,  no 
longer  troubled  themselves  with  the  general  destiny.  At 
this  crisis  an  extraordinary  idea  entered  the  minds  of  one 
or  two  of  the  emperors :  they  wished  to  try  whether  the 
hope  of  general  liberty,  whether  a  confederation,  a  sys- 
tem something  like  what  we  now  call  the  representative 


CIVILIZATION    IN   MODERN   EUROPE.  47 

system,  would  not  better  defend  the  Roman  empire  than 
the  despotic  administration  which  already  existed.  There 
is  a  mandate  of  Honorius  and  the  younger  Theodosius, 
addressed  in  the  year  418,  to  the  prefect  of  Gaul,  the  ob- 
ject of  which  was  to  establish  a  sort  of  representative 
government  in  the  south  of  Gaul,  and  by  its  aid  still  to 
preserve  the  unity  of  empire. 

Rescript  of  the  Emperors  Honorius  and  TTieodosius  the  Younger^ 
addressed  in  the  year  418,  to  the  Prefect  of  the  Gauls,  residing  at  Aries. 

"Honorius  and  Theodosius,  Augusti,  to  Agricoli,  Prefect  of  the  Gauls. 

"In  consequence  of  the  very  salutary  representation  which  your  Mag- 
nificence has  made  to  us,  as  well  as  upon  other  information  obviously 
advantageous  to  the  republic,  we  decree,  in  order  that  they  may  have  the 
force  of  a  perpetual  law,  that  the  following  regulations  should  be  made, 
and  that  obedience  should  be  paid  to  them  by  the  inhabitants  of  our  seven 
provinces,*  and  which  are  such  as  they  themselves  should  wish  for  and 
require.  Seeing  that  from  motives,  both  of  public  and  private  utility,  re- 
sponsible persons  or  special  deputies  should  be  sent,  not  only  by  each 
province,  but  by  each  city,  to  your  Magnificence,  not  only  to  render  up 
accounts,  but  also  to  treat  of  such  matters  as  concern  the  interest  of 
landed  proprietors,  we  have  judged  that  it  would  be  both  convenient  and 
highly  advantageous  to  have  annually,  at  a  fixed  period,  and  to  date  from 
the  present  year,  an  assembly  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  seven  provinces 
held  in  the  Metropolis,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  city  of  Aries.  By  this  insti- 
tution our  desire  is  to  provide  both  for  public  and  private  interests.  First, 
by  the  union  of  the  most  influential  inhabitants  in  the  presence  of  their 
illustrious  Prefect,  (unless  he  should  be  absent  from  causes  affecting  pub- 
lic order,)  and  by  their  deliberations,  upon  every  subject  brought  before 
them,  tile  best  possible  advice  will  be  obtained.  Nothing  which  shall 
have  been  treated  of  and  determined  upon,  after  a  mature  discussion, 
shall  be  kept  from  the  knowledge  of  the  rest  of  the  provinces  ;  and  such 
as  have  not  assisted  at  the  assembly  shall  be  bound  to  follow  the  same 
rules  of  justice  and  equity.  Furthermore,  by  ordaining  that  an  assembly 
should  be  held  every  year  in  the  city  of  Constantine,t  we  believe  that  we 
are  doing  not  only  what  will  be  advantageous  to  the  public  welfare,  but 
what  will  also  multiply  its  social  relations.  Indeed,  this  city  is  so  favour- 
ably situated,  foreigners  resort  to  it  in  such  large  numbers,  and  it  pos- 

*  Vieune,  the  two  Aquitaines,  Novempopulana,  the  two  Nar bonnes,  and 
the  province  of  the  Maritime  Alps. 

t  Constantine  the  Great  was  singularly  partial  to  Aries ;  it  was  he  who 
made  it  the  seat  of  the  prefecture  of  the  Gauls:  he  desired  also  that  it  should 
bear  his  name  ;  but  custom  was  more  powerful  than  his  wilL 


48  GENERAL    HISTORY    OP 

Besses  so  extensive  a  commerce,  that  all  the  varied  productions  and  man- 
ufactures of  the  rest  of  tlie  world  are  to  be  seen  within  it.  All  that  the 
opulent  Ka?t,  the  perfumed  Arabia,  the  delicate  Assyria,  the  fertile  Africa, 
the  beautiful  Spam,  and  the  courageous  Gaul,  produce  worthy  of  note, 
abound  here  m  such  profusion,  that  all  things  adnurtd  ts  magnificent  in 
the  different  parts  of  the  world  seem  the  productions  of  its  own  climate. 
Further,  the  union  of  the  Rhone  and  the  Tuscan  sea  so  facilitate  inter- 
course, that  the  countries  which  the  former  traverses,  and  the  latter  wa- 
ters in  its  winding  course,  are  made  almost  neighbours.  Thus,  as  ihe 
whole  earth  yields  up  its  most  esteemed  productions  for  the  service  of  this 
city,  as  the  particular  commodities  of  each  country  are  transported  to  it 
by  land,  by  sea,  by  rivers,  by  ships,  by  rafts,  by  wagons,  how  can  our 
Gaul  fail  of  seeing  the  great  benefit  we  confer  upon  it  by  convoking  a  pub- 
lic assembly  to  be  held  m  this  city,  upon  which,  by  a  special  gifr,  as  it 
were,  of  Divine  Providence,  has  been  showered  all  the  enjoyments  of  life, 
and  all  the  facilities  for  commerce? 

"The  illustrious  Prefect  Peiroiiius*  did,  some  time  ago,  with  a  praise- 
wortliy  and  enlightened  view,  ordain  that  this  custom  should  be  observed  ; 
but  as  its  practice  was  interrupted  by  the  troubles  of  the  times  and  the 
reign  of  usurpers,  we  have  resolved' to  put  it  again  in  force,  by  the  pru- 
dent exercise  of  our  authority.  Thus,  then,  dear  and  well-beloved  cousin 
Agricola,  your  ^\lagnificence,  conforming  to  our  present  ordinance  and  the 
custom  established  by  your  predecessors,  will  cause  the  following  regula- 
tions to  be  observed  in  the  provinces  : — 

"It  will  be  necessary  to  make  known  unto  all  persons  honoured  with 
public  functions  or  proprietors  of  domains,  and  to  all  the  judges  of  pro- 
vinces, that  they  must  attend  in  council  every  year  in  the  city  of  Aries, 
between  the  Ides  of  August  and  September,  the  days  of  convocation  and 
of  session  to  be  fixed  at  pleasure. 

"  iVovempopulana  and  the  second  Aquitaine,  being  the  most  distant 
provinces,  shall  have  the  power,  according  to  custom,  to  send,  if  their 
judges  should  be  detained  by  indispensable  duties,  deputies  in  their  stead. 

'■  Such  pers  urs  as  neglect  to  attend  ar  the  place  appointed,  and  within 
the  prescribed  period,  shall  pay  a  fine  :  viz.  judges,  five  pounds  of  gold  ; 
members  of  the  curiae  and  other  dij^nitaries,  three  pounds.t 

*'  By  this  measure  we  conceive  we  are  granting  great  advantages  and 
favour  to  the  inhabitants  of  our  provinces-  We  have  also  the  certainty  of 
adding  to  the  welfare  of  the  city  of  Aries,  to  the  fidelity  of  which,  ac- 
cording to  our  father  and  countryman,  we  owe  so  much.t 

"Given  the  15ih  of  the  calends  of  May;  received  at  Aries  the  10th  of 
the  calends  of  June." 

*  Petronius  was  Prefect  of  the  Gauls  between  402  and  403. 

t  The  municipal  corps  of  the  Roman  cities  were  called  curi^,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  these  bojies,  who  were  very  numerous,  curiales. 

J  Constantine  the  Second,  husband  of  Placidia,  whom  Honorius  had  taken 
for  his  colleague  in  421. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    ErROPE.  49 

Notwithstanding  this  call,  the  provinces  and  cities  re- 
fused the  proffered  boon ;  nobody  would  name  deputies, 
none  would  go  to  Aries.  This  centralization,  this  unity, 
was  opposed  to  the  primitive  nature  of  this  society.  The 
spirit  of  locality,  and  of  municipality,  everywhere  re- 
appeared ;  the  impossibility  of  re-constructing  a  general 
society,  of  building  up  the  whole  into  one  general  state, 
became  evident.  The  cities,  confining  themselves  to  the 
airs  of  their  own  corporations,  shut  themselves  up  within 
their  own  walls,  and  the  empire  fell,  because  none  would 
belong  to  the  empire ;  because  citizens  wished  but  to  be- 
long to  their  city.  Thus  the  Roman  empire,  at  its  fall,  was 
resolved  into  the  elements  of  which  it  had  been  composed, 
and  the  preponderance  of  municipal  rule  and  government 
\vas  again  everywhere  visible.  The  Roman  Avorld  had 
been  formed  of  cities,  and  to  cities  again  it  returned. 

This  municipal  system  was  the  bequest  of  the  ancient 
Roman  civilization  to  modern  Europe.  It  had  no  doubt 
become  feeble,  irregular,  and  very  inferior  to  what  it  had 
been  at  an  earlier  period  5  but  it  was  the  only  living  prin- 
ciple, the  only  one  that  retained  any  form,  the  only  one 
that  survived  the  general  destruction  of  the  Roman  world. 
When  I  say  the  only  one,  I  mistake.  There  was  another 
phenomenon,  another  idea,  which  likewise  outlived  it.  I 
mean  the  remembrance  of  the  empire,  and  the  title  of  the 
emperor, — the  idea  of  imperial  majesty,  and  of  absolute 
power  attached  to  the  name  of  emperor.  It  must  be  ob- 
served, then,  that  the  two  elements  which  passed  from  the 
Roman  civilization  into  ours  were,  first^  the  system  of 
municipal  corporations,  its  habits,  its  regulations,  its  prin- 
ciple of  liberty — a  general  civil  legislation,  common  to 
all;  secondly^  the  idea  of  absolute  power; — the  principle 
of  order  and  the  principle  of  servitude. 

Meanwhile,  within  the  very  heart   of  Roman  society, 
there  had  grown  up  another  society  of  a  very  different  na- 

5 


50  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

turc,  founded  upon  different  principles,  animated  by  differ- 
ent sentiments,  and  which  has  brought  into  European  civi- 
lization elements  of  a  widely  different  character  :  I  speak 
of  the  Christian  Church.  I  say  the  Christian  Church, 
and  not  Christianity,  between  which  a  broad  distinction 
is  to  be  made.  At  the  end  of  the  fourth  century,  and  the 
beginning  of  the  fifth,  Christianity  was  no  longer  a  simple 
belief,  it  was  an  institution — it  had  formed  itself  into  a 
corporate  body.  It  had  its  government,  a  body  of  priests; 
a  settled  ecclesiastical  polity  for  the  regulation  of  their 
different  functions  ;  revenues;  independent  means  of  in- 
fluence. It  had  the  rallying  points  suitable  to  a  great  so- 
ciety, in  its  provincial,  national,  and  general  councils,  in 
which  were  wont  to  be  debated  in  common  the  affairs  of 
society.  In  a  word,  the  Christian  religion,  at  this  epoch, 
was  no  longer  merely  a  religion,  it  was  a  Church. 

Had  it  not  been  a  Church,  it  is  hard  to  say  what  would 
have  been  its  fate  in  the  general  convulsion  which  attended 
the  overthrow  of  the  Roman  empire.  Looking  only  to 
worldly  means,  putting  out  of  the  question  the  aids  and  su- 
perintending power  of  Divine  Providence,  and  considering 
only  the  natural  effects  of  natural  causes,  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  say  how  Christianity,  if  it  had  continued  what  it 
was  at  first,  a  mere  belief,  an  individual  conviction,  could 
have  withstood  the  shock  occasioned  by  the  dissolution  of 
the  Roman  empire  and  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians.  At 
a  later  period,  when  it  had  even  become  an  institution,  an 
established  Church,  it  fell  in  Asia  and  the  North  of  Africa, 
upon  an  invasion  of  a  like  kind — that  of  the  Mohamme- 
dans ;  and  circumstances  seem  to  point  out  that  it  was  still 
more  likely  such  would  have  been  its  fate  at  the  fall  of  the 
Roman  empire.  At  this  time  there  existed  none  of  those 
means  by  which  in  the  present  day  moral  influences  become 
established  or  rejected  without  the  aid  of  institutions;  none 
of  those  means  by  which  an  abstract  truth  now  makes  way, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  51 

gains  an  authority  over  mankind,  governs  their  actions,  and 
directs  their  movements.  Nothing  of  this  kind  existed  in 
the  fourth  century  j  nothing  which  could  give  to  simple 
ideas,  to  personal  opinions,  so  much  weight  and  power. 
Hence  I  think  it  may  be  assumed,  that  only  a  society  firmly 
established,  under  a  powerful  government  and  rules  of 
discipline,  could  hope  to  bear  up  amid  such  disasters — 
could  hope  to  weather  so  violent  a  storm.  I  think  then, 
humanly  speaking,  that  it  is  not  too  much  to  aver,  that  in 
the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  it  was  the  Christian  Church 
that  saved  Christianity  ;  that  it  was  the  Christian  Church, 
with  its  institutions,  its  magistrates,  its  authority — the 
Christian  Church,  which  struggled  so  vigorously  to  pre- 
vent the  interior  dissolution  of  the  empire,  which  strug- 
gled against  the  barbarian,  and  which,  in  fact,  overcame 
the  barbarian; — it  was  this  Church,  I  say,  that  became  the 
great  connecting  link — the  principle  of  civilization  be- 
tween the  Roman  and  the  barbarian  Avorld.  It  is  the  state 
of  the  Church,  then,  rather  than  religion  strictly  under- 
stood,— rather  than  that  pure  and  simple  faith  of  the  Gos- 
pel which  all  true  believers  must  regard  as  its  highest 
triumph, — that  we  must  look  at  in  the  fifth  century,  in 
order  to  discover  what  influence  Christianity  had  from 
this  time  upon  modern  civilization,  and  what  are  the  ele- 
ments it  has  introduced  into  it. 

Let  us  see  what  at  this  epoch  the  Christian  Church 
really  was. 

If  we  look,  still  in  an  entirely  worldly  point  of  view — 
if  we  look  at  the  changes  which  Christianity  underwent 
from  its  first  rise,  to  the  fifth  century — if  we  examine  it, 
(still,  I  repeat,  not  in  a  religious,  but  solely  in  a  political 
sense,)  we  shall  find  that  it  passed  through  three  essen- 
tially different  states. 

In  its  infancy,  in  its  very  babyhood.  Christian  society 
presents  itself  before  us  as  a  simple  association  of  men 


52  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

possessing  the  same  faith  and  opinions,  the  same  senti- 
ments and  feelings.  The  first  Christians  met  to  enjoy  to- 
gether their  common  emotions,  their  common  religious 
convictions.  At  this  time  we  find  no  settled  form  of  doc- 
trine, no  settled  rules  of  discipline,  no  body  of  magistrates. 

Still,  it  is  perfectly  obvious,  that  no  society,  however 
young,  however  feebly  held  together,  or  w^iatever  its  na- 
ture, can  exist  without  some  moral  power  which  animates 
and  guides  it ;  and  thus,  in  the  various  Christian  congre- 
gations, there  were  men  w^ho  preached,  who  taught,  who 
morally  governed  the  congregation.  Still  there  was  no 
settled  magistrate,  no  discipline  ;  a  simple  association  of 
believers  in  a  common  faith,  with  common  sentiments  and 
feelino-s,  w^as  the  first  condition  of  Christian  society. 

But  the  moment  this  society  began  to  advance,  and  al- 
most at  its  birth,  for  Ave  find  traces  of  them  in  its  earliest 
documents,  there  gradually  became  moulded  a  form  of 
doctrine,  rules  of  discipline,  a  body  of  magistrates :  of 
magistrates  called  ttq^g^vteqoi^  or  elders,  who  afterwards 
became  priests  ;  of  IniG'/.onoi,  inspectors  or  overseers, 
who  became  bishops  ;  and  of  didy.ovoi,  or  deacons,  whose 
office  was  the  care  of  the  poor  and  the  distribution  of 
alms. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  determine  the  precise  func- 
tions of  these  magistrates;  the  line  of  demarkation  was 
probably  very  vague  and  wavering;  yet  here  was  the  em- 
bryo of  institutions.  Still,  however,  there  was  one  pre- 
vailing character  in  this  second  epoch  :  it  was  that  the 
power,  the  authority,  the  preponderating  influence,  still 
remained  in  the  hands  of  the  general  body  of  believers. 
It  W' as  they  who  decided  in  the  election  of  magistrates,  as 
well  as  in  the  adoption  of  rules  of  discipline  and  doctrine. 
No  separation  had  as  yet  taken  place  between  the  Chris- 
tian government  and  the  Christian  people  ;  neither  as  yet 
existed  apart  from,  or  independently  of,  the  other,  and  it 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  53 

was  still  the  great  body  of  Christian  believers  who  exer- 
cised the  principal  influence  in  the  society. 

In  the  third  period  all  this  Avas  entirely  changed.  The 
clergy  were  separated  from  the  people,  and  now  formed  a 
distinct  body,  with  its  own  wealth,  its  owti  jurisdiction,^its 
own  constitution  ;  in  a  word,  it  had  its  own  government, 
and  formed  a  complete  society  of  itself, — a  society,  too, 
provided  with  all  the  means  of  existence,  independently 
of  the  society  to  which  it  applied  itself,  and  over  which 
it  extended  its  influence.  This  was  the  third  state  of  the 
Christian  Church,  and  in  this  state  it  existed  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  fifth  century.  The  government  was  not  yet 
completely  separated  from  the  people  j  for  no  such  gov- 
ernment as  yet  existed,  and  less  so  in  religious  matters 
than  in  any  other ;  but,  as  respects  the  relation  between 
the  clergy  and  Christians  in  general,  it  was  the  clergy  who 
governed,  and  governed  almost  without  control. 

But,  besides  the  influence  which  the  clergy  derived 
from  their  spiritual  functions,  they  possessed  considerable 
power  over  society,  from  their  having  become  chief  mag- 
istrates in  the  city  corporations.  We  have  already  seen, 
that,  strictly  speaking,  nothing  had  descended  from  the 
Roman  empire,  except  its  municipal  system.  Now  it  had 
fallen  out  that  by  the  vexations  of  despotism,  and  the 
ruin  of  the  cities,  the  curiales,  or  oflicers  of  the  corpora- 
tions, had  sunk  into  insignificance  and  inanity ;  while  the 
bishops  and  the  great  body  of  the  clergy,  full  of  vigour 
and  zeal,  were  naturally  prepared  to  guide  and  watch  over 
them.  It  is  not  fair  to  accuse  the  clergy  of  usurpation  in 
this  matter,  for  it  fell  out  according  to  the  common  course 
of  events  :  the  clergy  alone  possessed  moral  strength  and 
activity,  and  the  clergy  everywhere  sue  ceded  to  power — 
such  is  the  common  law  of  the  universe. 

The  change  which  had  taken  place  in  this  respect 
shows  itself  in  every  part  of  the  legislation  of  the  Roman 

5* 


54  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

Emperors  at  this  period.  In  opening  the  Theodosian  and 
Justinian  codes,  we  find  innumerable  enactments,  which 
place  the  management  of  the  municipal  affairs  in  the 
hands  of  the  clergy  and  bishops.     I  shall  cite  a  few. 

Cod.  Just.,  L.  I.,  tit.  iv.,  De  Episcopali  audientia,  §  26.— With  regard 
to  the  yearly  affairs  of  the  cities,  (whether  as  respects  the  ordinary  city 
revenues,  the  funds  arising  from  the  city  estates,  from  legacies  or  partic- 
ular gifts,  or  from  any  other  source;  whether  as  respects  the  manage- 
ment of  the  puhlic  works,  of  the  magazines  of  provisions,  of  the  aqueducts; 
of  the  maintenance  of  the  public  baths,  the  city  gates,  of  the  building  of 
walls  or  towers,  the  repairing  of  bridges  and  roads,  or  of  any  lawsuit  in 
which  the  city  may  be  engaged  on  account  of  public  or  private  interests,) 
we  ordain  as  follows  : — The  right  reverend  bishop,  and  three  men  of  good 
report,  from  among  the  chiefs  of  the  city,  shall  assemble  together ;  every 
year  they  shall  examine  the  works  done  ;  they  shall  take  care  that  those 
who  conduct,  or  have  conducted  them,  measure  them  correctly,  give  a 
true  account  of  them,  and  cause  it  to  be  seen  that  they  have  fulfilled  their 
contracts,  whether  in  the  care  of  the  public  monuments,  in  the  moneys 
expended  in  provisions  and  the  public  baths,  of  all  that  is  expended  for 
the  repairs  of  the  roads,  aqueducts,  and  all  other  matters. 

Ibid.,  §  30. — With  respect  to  the  guardianship  of  youth,  of  the  first  and 
second  age,  and  of  all  those  to  whom  the  law  gives  curators,  if  their  for- 
tune is  not  more  than  5000  aurei,  we  ordain  that  the  nomination  of  the 
president  of  the  province  should  not  be  waited  for,  on  account  of  the  great 
expense  it  would  occasion,  especially  if  the  president  should  not  reside  in 
the  city,  in  which  it  becomes  necessary  to  provide  for  the  guardianship. 
The  nomination  of  the  curators  or  tutors  shall,  in  this  case,  be  made 
by  the  magistrate  of  the  city  ....  in  concert  with  the  right  reverend 
bishop  and  other  persons  invested  with  public  authority,  if  more  than  one 
should  reside  in  the  city. 

Jbid.,  L.  I.,  tit.  v.,  De  Defensoribus,  §  8. — We  desire  the  defenders  of 
cities,  well  instructed  in  the  holy  mysteries  of  the  orthodox  faith,  should 
be  chosen  and  instituted  into  their  office  by  the  reverend  bishops,  the 
clerks,  notables,  proprietors,  and  the  curiales.  With  regard  to  their  in- 
Btallation,  it  must  be  committed  to  the  glorious  power  of  the  prefects  of 
the  prsetorium,  in  order  that  their  authority  should  have  all  the  stability 
and  weight  which  the  letters  of  admission  granted  by  his  Magnificence 
are  likely  to  give. 

I  could  cite  numerous  other  laws  to  the  same  effect,  and 
in  all  of  them  you  would  see  this  one  fact  very  strikingly 
prevail :  namely,  that  between  the  Roman  municipal  sys- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  55 

tern,  and  that  of  the  free  cities  of  the  middle  ages,  there 
intervened  an  ecclesiastical  municipal  system  ;  the  prepon- 
derance of  the  clergy  in  the  management  of  the  affairs  of 
the  city  corporations  succeeded  to  that  of  the  ancient 
Roman  municipal  magistrates,  and  paved  the  way  for  the 
organization  of  our  modern  free  communities. 

It  will  at  once  be  seen  what  an  amazing  accession  of 
power  the  Christian  Church  gained  by  these  means,  not 
only  in  its  own  peculiar  circle,  by  its  increased  influence 
on  the  body  of  Christians,  but  also  by  the  part  which  it 
took  in  temporal  matters.  And  it  is  from  this  period  we 
should  date  its  powerful  co-operation  in  the  advance  of 
modern  civilization,  and  the  extensive  influence  it  has  had 
upon  its  character.  Let  us  briefly  run  over  the  advantages 
which  it  introduced  into  it. 

And,  first,  it  was  of  immense  advantage  to  European 
civilization  that  a  moral  influence,  a  moral  power — a 
power  resting  entirely  upon  moral  convictions,  upon  moral 
opinions  and  sentiments — should  have  established  itself  in 
society,  just  at  this  period,  when  it  seemed  upon  the  point 
of  being  crushed  by  the  overwhelming  physical  force, 
which  had  taken  possession  of  it.  Had  not  the  Christian 
Church  at  this  time  existed,  the  whole  world  must  have 
fallen  a  prey  to  mere  brute  force.  The  Christian  Church 
alone  posessed  a  moral  power  ;  it  maintained  and  promul- 
gated the  idea  of  a  precept,  of  a  law  superior  to  all  human 
authority  ;  it  proclaimed  that  great  truth  which  forms  the 
only  foundation  of  our  hope  for  humanity;  namely,  that 
there  exists  a  law  above  all  human  law,  which,  by  what- 
ever name  it  may  be  called,  whether  reason,  the  law  of 
God,  or  what  not,  is,  in  all  times  and  in  all  places,  the 
same  law  under  different  names. 

Finally,  the  Church  commenced  an  undertaking  of  great 
importance  to  society — I  mean  the  separation  of  temporal 
and  spiritual  authority,     This  separation  is  the  only  true 


56  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

source  of  liberty  of  conscience  j  it  was  based  upon  no 
other  principle  than  that  which  serves  as  the  groundwork 
for  the  strictest  and  most  extensive  liberty  of  conscience. 
The  separation  of  temporal  and  spiritual  power  rests 
solely  upon  the  idea  that  physical,  that  brute  force,  has 
no  right  or  authority  over  the  mind,  over  convictions, 
over  truth.  It  flows  from  the  distinction  established  be- 
tween the  world  of  thought  and  the  world  of  action,  be- 
tween our  inward  and  intellectual  nature  and  the  outward 
world  around  us.  So  that,  however  paradoxical  it  may 
seem,  that  very  principle  of  liberty  of  conscience  for  which 
Europe  has  so  long  struggled,  so  much  suffered,  which 
has  only  so  lately  prevailed,  and  that  in  many  instances, 
against  the  will  of  the  clergy, — that  very  principle  was 
acted  upon  under  the  name  of  a  separation  of  the  tem- 
poral and  spiritual  power,  in  the  infancy  of  European  civil- 
ization. It  was,  moroever,  the  Christian  Church  itself, 
driven  to  assert  it  by  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was 
placed,  as  a  means  of  defence  against  barbarism,  that  in- 
troduced and  maintained  it. 

The  establishment,  then,  of  a  moral  influence,  the  main- 
tenance of  this  divine  law,  and  the  separation  of  temporal 
and  spiritual  poAver,  may  be  enumerated  as  the  great  ben- 
jefits  which  the  Christian  Church  extended  to  European 
•  society  in  the  fifth  century. 

Unfortunately  all  its  influences,  even  at  this  period, 
were  not  equally  beneficial.  Already,  even  before  the 
close  of  the  fifth  century,  we  discover  some  of  those  vi- 
cious principles  which  have  had  so  baneful  an  effect  on  the 
advancement  of  our  civilization.  There  already  prevailed 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Church  a  desire  to  separate  the  gov- 
erning and  the  governed.  The  attempt  was  thus  early 
made  to  render  the  gox^ernment  entirely  independent  of 
the  people  under  its  authority — to  take  possession  of  their 
mind  and  life,  without  the  conviction  of  their  reason  or 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  57 

the  consent  of  their  will.  The  Church,  moreover,  en- 
deavoured with  all  her  might  to  establish  the  principle  of 
theocracy,  to  usurp  temporal  authority,  to  obtain  universal 
dominion.  And  when  she  failed  in  this,  when  she  found  she 
could  not  obtain  absolute  power  for  herself,  she  did  what 
was  almost  as  bad  :  to  obtain  a  share  of  it,  she  leagued 
herself  with  temporal  rulers,  and  enforced,  with  all  her 
might,  their  claim  to  absolute  power  at  the  expense  of  the 
liberty  of  the  subject. 

Such  then,  I  think,  were  the  principal  elements  of  civi- 
lization which  Europe  derived,  in  the  fifth  century,  from 
the  Church  and  from  the  Eoman  empire.  Such  was  the 
state  of  the  Roman  world  when  the  barbarians  came  to 
make  it  their  prey ;  and  we  have  now  only  to  study  the 
barbarians  themselves,  in  order  to  be  acquainted  with  the 
elements  which  were  united  and  mixed  together  in  the 
cradle  of  our  civilization. 

It  must  be  here  understood  that  we  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  history  of  the  barbarians.  It  is  enough  for  our 
purpose  to  know,  that  with  the  exception  of  a  few  Slavo- 
nian tribes,  such  as  the  Alans,  they  were  all  of  the  same 
German  origin:  and  that  they  wereallinpretty  nearly  the 
same  state  of  civilization.  It  is  true  that  some  little  dif- 
ference might  exist  in  this  respect,  accordingly  as  these 
nations  had  more  or  less  intercourse  with  the  Roman 
world  ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  but  the  Goths  had  made  a 
greater  progress,  and  had  become  more  refined,  than  the 
Franks  ;  but  in  a  general  point  of  v'iew,  and  with  regard  to 
the  matter  before  us,  these  little  differences  are  of  no  con- 
sequence whatever. 

A  general  notion  of  the  state  of  society  among  the  bar- 
barians, such,  at  least,  as  will  enable  us  to  judge  of  what 
they  have  contributed  towards  modern  civilization,  is  all 
that  we  require.  This  information,  small  as  it  may  ap- 
pear, it  is  now  almost  impossible  to  obtain.     Respecting 


58  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

the  municipal  system  of  the  Romans  and  the  state  of  the 
Church  we  may  form  a  tolerably  accurate  idea.  Their  in- 
fluence has  lasted  to  the  present  times ;  we  have  vestig-es 
of  them  in  many  of  our  institutions,  and  possess  a  thousand 
means  of  becoming  acquainted  with  them ;  but  the  man- 
ners and  social  state  of  the  barbarians  have  completely 
perished,  and  we  are  driven  to  conjecture  what  they  were, 
either  from  a  very  few  ancient  historical  remains,  or  by 
an  effort  of  the  imagination. 

There  is  one  sentiment,  one  in  particular,  which  it  is 
necessary  to  understand  before  we  can  form  a  true  pic- 
ture of  a  barbarian  5  it  is  the  pleasure  of  personal  inde- 
pendence— the  pleasure  of  enjoying,  in  full  force  and 
liberty,  all  his  powers  in  the  various  ups  and  downs  of 
fortune  ;  the  fondness  for  activity  without  labour  j  for  a 
life  of  enterprise  and  adventure.  Such  Avas  the  prevailing 
character  and  disposition  of  the  barbarians ;  such  were 
the  moral  wants  which  put  these  immense  masses  of  men 
into  motion.  It  is  extremely  difficult  for  us,  in  the  regu- 
lated society  in  which  we  move,  to  form  any  thing  like  a 
correct  idea  of  this  feeling,  and  of  the  influence  which  it 
exercised  upon  the  rude  barbarians  of  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries.  There  is,  however,  a  history  of  the  Norman 
conquest  of  England,  written  by  M.  Thierry,  in  which  the 
character  and  disposition  of  the  barbarian  are  depicted 
with  much  life  and  vigour.  In  this  admirable  Avork,  the 
motives,  the  inclinations  and  impulses  that  stir  men  into 
action  in  a  state  of  life  bordering  on  the  savage,  have 
been  felt  and  described  in  a  truly  masterly  manner.  There 
is  nowhere  else  to  be  found  so  correct  a  likeness  of  what 
a  barbarian  was,  or  of  his  course  of  life.  Something  of 
the  same  kind,  but,  in  my  opinion,  much  inferior,  is  found 
in  the  novels  of  Mr.  Cooper,  in  which  he  depicts  the  man- 
ners of  the  saA^ages  of  America.  In  these  scenes,  in  the 
sentiments  and  social  relations  Avhich  these  savages  hold 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  59 

in  the  midst  of  their  forests,  there  is  unquestionably  some- 
thing which,  to  a  certain  point,  calls  up  before  us  the 
manners  of  the  ancient  Germans.  No  doubt  these  pic- 
tures are  a  little  imaginative,  a  little  poetical ;  the  worst 
features  in  the  life  and  manners  of  the  barbarians  are  not 
given  in  all  their  naked  coarseness.  I  allude  not  merely 
to  the  evils  which  these  manners  forced  into  the  social 
condition,  but  to  the  inward  individual  condition  of  the 
barbarian  himself.  There  is  in  this  passionate  desire  for 
personal  independence  something  of  a  grosser,  more  ma- 
terial character  than  we  should  suppose  from  the  work  of 
M.  Thierry  j  a  degree  of  brutality,  of  headstrong  passion, 
of  apathy,  which  we  do  not  discover  in  his  details.  Still, 
notwithstanding  this  alloy  of  brutal  and  stupid  selfishness, 
there  is,  if  we  look  more  profoundly  into  the  matter, 
something  of  a  noble  and  moral  character,  in  this  taste 
for  independence,  which  seems  to  derive  its  power  from 
our  moral  nature.  It  is  the  pleasure  of  feeling  one's  self  a 
man  ;  the  sentiment  of  personality  ;  of  human  spontaneity 
in  its  unrestricted  development. 

It  was  the  rude  barbarians  of  Germany  who  introduced 
this  sentiment  of  personal  independence,  this  love  of  in- 
dividual liberty,  into  European  civilization  ;  it  was  un- 
known among  the  Romans,  it  was  unkno\\Ti  in  the  Chris- 
tian Church,  it  was  unkno^\Ti  in  nearly  all  the  civilizations 
of  antiquitj'-.  The  liberty  which  we  meet  with  in  ancient 
civilizations,  is  political  liberty  :  it  is  the  liberty  of  the 
citizen.  It  was  not  about  his  personal  liberty  that  man 
troubled  himself,  it  was  about  his  liberty  as  a  citizen.  He 
formed  part  of  an  association,  and  to  this  alone  he  was 
devoted.  The  case  was  the  same  in  the  Christian  Church. 
Among  its  members  a  devoted  attachment  to  the  Christian 
body,  a  devotedness  to  its  laws,  and  an  earnest  zeal  for 
the  extension  of  its  empire,  were  everywhere  conspicu- 
ous j  the   spirit  of  Christianity  wrought  a  change  in  the 


60  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

moral  character  of  man,  opposed  to  this  principle  of  inde- 
pendence ;  for  under  its  influence  his  mind  struggled  to 
extinguish  its  own  liberty,  and  to  deliver  itself  up  entirely 
to  the  dictates  of  his  faith.  But  the  feeling  of  personal 
independence,  a  fondness  for  genuine  liberty  displaying 
itself  without  regard  to  conseqsences.  and  with  scarcely 
any  other  aim  than  its  own  satisfaction — this  feeling,  I 
repeat,  w^as  unknow^n  to  the  Romans  and  to  the  Christians. 
We  are  indebted  for  it  to  the  barbarians,  who  introduced 
it  into  European  civilization,  in  which,  from  its  first  rise, 
it  has  played  so  considerable  a  part,  and  has  produced 
such  lasting  and  beneficial  results,  that  it  must  be  regard- 
ed as  one  of  its  fundamental  principles,  and  could  not  be 
passed  without  notice. 

There  is  another,  a  second  element  of  civilization,  which 
we  likewise  inherit  from  the  barbarians  alone  :  I  mean 
military  patronage,  the  tie  which  became  formed  betw^een 
individuals,  between  w^arriors,  and  which,  without  destroy- 
ing the  liberty  of  any,  without  even  destroying  in  the 
commencement  the  equality  up  to  a  certain  point  w^hich 
existed  betw^een  them,  laid  the  foundation  of  a  graduated 
subordination,  and  was  the  origin  of  that  aristocratical 
organization  which,  at  a  later  period,  grew  into  the  feudal 
system.  The  germ  of  this  connection  w^as  the  attach- 
ment of  man  to  man  ;  the  fidelity  which  united  individuals, 
without  apparent  necessity,  without  any  obligation  arising 
from  the  general  principles  of  society.  In  none  of  the 
ancient  republics  do  you  see  any  example  of  individuals 
particularly  and  freely  attached  to  other  individuals.  They 
were  all  attached  to  the  city.  Among  the  barbarians  this 
tie  was  formed  between  man  and  man ;  first  by  the  rela- 
tionship of  companion  and  chief,  when  they  came  in 
bands  to  overrun  Europe  ;  and  at  a  later  period,  by  the 
relationship  of  sovereign  and  vassal.  This  second  prin- 
ciple, which  has  had  so  vast  an  influence  in  the  civilization 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  61 

of  modern  Europe — this  clevotedness  of  man  to  man — 
came  to  us  entirely  from  our  German  ancestors ;  it 
formed  part  of  their  social  system,  and  was  adopted  into 
ours. 

Let  me  now  ask  if  I  was  not  fully  justified  in  stating, 
as  I  did  at  the  outset,  that  modern  civilization,  even  in  its 
infancy,  was  diversified,  agitated,  and  confused  1  Is  it 
not  true  that  we  find  at  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire 
nearly  all  the  elements  which  are  met  with  in  the  pro- 
gressive career  of  our  civilization  1  We  have  found  at 
this  epoch  three  societies  all  different  ;  first,  municipal 
society,  the  last  remains  of  the  Roman  empire  ;  secondly, 
Christian  society  ;  and  lastly,  barbarian  society.  We  find 
these  societies  very  diflerently  organized ;  founded  upon 
principles  totally  opposite  ;  inspiring  men  with  sentiments 
altogether  different.  We  find  the  love  of  the  most  abso- 
lute independence  by  the  side  of  the  most  devoted  sub- 
mission ;  military  patronage  by  the  side  of  ecclesiastical 
domination  j  spiritual  power  and  temporal  power  every- 
where together ;  the  canons  of  the  Church,  the  learned 
legislation  of  the  Romans,  the  almost  unwritten  customs 
of  the  barbarians ;  everywhere  a  mixture  or  rather  co- 
existence of  nations,  of  languages,  of  social  situations, 
of  manners,  of  ideas,  of  impressions,  the  most  diversified. 
These,  I  think,  afford  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  truth  of 
the  general  character  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  pic- 
ture of  our  civilization. 

There  is  no  denying  that  we  owe  to  this  confusion,  this 
diversity,  this  tossing  and  jostling  of  elements,  the  slow 
progress  of  Europe,  the  storms  by  which  she  has  been 
buffeted,  the  mise -ies  to  which  ofttimes  she  has  been  a 
prey.  But,  however  dear  these  have  cost  us,  we  must 
not  regard  them  with  unmingled  regret.  In  nations,  as 
well  as  in  individuals,  the  good  fortune  to  have  all  the 
faculties  called  into  action,  so  as  to  ensure  a  full  and  free 

6 


62  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

development  of  the  various  powers  both  of  mind  and 
body,  is  an  advantage  not  too  dearly  paid  for  by  the 
labour  and  pain  Avith  which  it  is  attended.  What  we 
might  call  the  hard  fortune  of  European  civilization — the 
trouble,  the  toil,  it  has  undergone — the  violence  it  has 
suffered  in  its  course — have  been  of  infinitely  more  ser- 
vice to  the  progress  of  humanity  than  that  tranquil, 
smooth  simplicity,  in  which  other  civilizations  have  run 
their  course.  I  shall  now  halt.  In  the  rude  sketch  which 
I  have  dra^\^l,  I  trust  you  will  recognise  the  general  fea- 
tures of  the  world  such  as  it  appeared  upon  the  fall  of 
the  Roman  empire,  as  well  as  the  various  elements  which 
conspired  and  mingled  together  to  give  birth  to  Euro- 
pean civilization.  Henceforward  these  will  move  and  act 
under  our  notice.  We  shall  next  put  these  in  motion, 
and  see  how  they  work  together.  In  the  next  lecture  I 
shall  endeavour  to  show  what  they  became  and  what  they 
performed  in  the  epoch  which  is  called  the  Barbarous 
Period ;  that  is  to  say,  the  period  during  which  the  chaos 
of  invasion  continued. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  63 


LECTURE    III. 

OF  POLITICAL  LEGITIMACY CO-EXISTE^'CE  OF  ALL   THE  SYSTEMS 

OF  GOVERNMENT  IN  THE  FIFTH  CENTURY ATTEMPTS  TO  RE- 
ORGANIZE SOCIETY. 

In  my  last  lecture,  I  brought  you  to  what  may  be  called 
the  porch  to  the  history  of  modern  civilization.  I  briefly 
placed  before  you  the  primary  elements  of  European 
civilization,  as  found  when,  at  the  dissolution  of  the  Ro- 
man empire,  it  was  yet  in  its  cradle.  I  endeavoured  to 
give  you  a  preliminary  sketch  of  their  diversity,  their 
continual  struggles  with  each  other,  and  to  show  you  that 
no  one  of  them  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  mastery  in 
our  social  system ;  at  least  such  a  mastery  as  would  im- 
ply the  complete  subjugation  or  expulsion  of  the  others. 
We  have  seen  that  these  circumstances  form  the  distin- 
guishing character  of  European  civilization.  We  will 
to-day  begin  the  history  of  its  childhood  in  what  is  com- 
monly called  the  dark  or  middle  age,  the  age  of  barbar- 
ism. It  is  impossible  for  us  not  to  be  struck,  at  the  first 
glance  at  this  period,  with  a  fact  which  seems  quite  con- 
tradictory to  the  statement  we  have  just  made.  No 
sooner  do  we  seek  for  information  respecting  the  opinions 
that  have  been  formed  relative  to  the  ancient  condition  of 
modern  Europe,  than  we  find  that  the  various  elements  of 
our  civilization,  that  is  to  say,  monarchy,  theocracy,  aris- 
tocracy, and  democracy,  each  would  have  us  believe  that, 
originally,  European  society  belonged  to  it  alone,  and  that 
it  has  only  lost  the  power  it  then  possessed  by  the  usur- 
pation of  the  other  elements.  Examine  all  that  has  been 
\vritten,  all  that  has  been  said  on  this  subject,  and  you 


64*  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

will  find  that  every  author  who  has  attempted  to  build  up 
a  system  which  should  represent  or  explain  our  origin, 
has  asserted  the  exclusive  predominance  of  one  or  other 
of  these  elements  of  European  civilization. 

First,  there  is  the  school  of  civilians,  attached  to  the 
feudal  system,  among  whom  we  may  mention  Boulain- 
villiers  as  the  most  celebrated,  who  boldly  asserts,  that, 
at  the  downfall  of  the  Roman  empire,  it  was  the  conquer- 
ing nation,  forming  afterwards  the  nobility,  who  alone 
possessed  authority,  or  right,  or  power.  Society,  it  is 
said,  was  their  domain,  of  which  kings  and  people  have 
since  despoiled  them;  and  hence,  the  aristocratic  organi- 
zation is  affirmed  to  have  been  in  Europe  the  primitive 
and  genuine  form.  Next  to  this  school  we  may  place  the 
advocates  of  monarchy,  the  Abbe  Dubois,  for  example, 
who  maintains,  on  the  other  side,  that  it  was  to  royalty 
that  European  society  belonged.  According  to  him,  the 
German  kings  succeeded  to  all  the  rights  of  the  Roman 
emperors ;  they  were  even  invited  in  by  the  ancient  na- 
tions, among  others  by  the  Gauls  and  Saxons  ;  they  alone 
possessed  legitimate  authority,  and  all  the  conquests  of 
the  aristocracy  were  only  so  many  encroachments  upon 
the  power  of  the  monarchs. 

The  liberals,  republicans,  or  democrats,  whichever  you 
may  choose  to  call  them,  form  a  third  school.  Consult 
the  Abbe  de  Mably.  According  to  this  school,  the  gov- 
ernment by  which  society  was  ruled  in  the  fifth  century, 
was  composed  of  free  institutions  ;  of  assemblies  of  free- 
men, of  the  nation  properly  so  called.  Kings  and  nobles 
enriched  themselves  by  the  spoils  of  this  primitive  Liber- 
ty ;  it  has  fallen  under  their  repeated  attacks,  but  it 
reigned  before  them. 

Another  power,  however,  claimed  the  right  of  governing 
society,  and  upon  much  higher  grounds  than  any  of  these. 
Monarchical,  aristocratic,  and  popular  pretensions,  were 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  65 

all  of  a  worldly  nature  :  the  Church  of  Rome  founded  her 
pretensions  upon  her  sacred  mission  and  divine  right.  By 
her  labours,  Europe,  she  said,  had  attained  the  blessings 
of  civilization  and  truth,  and  to  her  alone  belonged  the 
right  to  govern  it. 

Here  then  is  a  difficulty  which  meets  us  at  the  very 
outset.  We  have  stated  our  belief  that  no  one  of  the  ele- 
ments of  European  civilization  obtained  an  exclusive  mas- 
tery over  it,  in  the  whole  course  of  its  history  ;  that  they 
lived  in  a  constant  state  of  proximity,  of  amalgamation, 
of  strife,  and  of  compromise  ;  yet  here,  at  our  very  first 
step,  we  are  met  by  the  directly  opposite  opinion,  that  one 
or  other  of  these  elements,  even  in  the  very  infancy  of 
civilization,  even  in  the  very  heart  of  barbarian  Europe, 
took  entire  possession  of  society.  And  it  is  not  in  one 
country  alone,  it  is  in  every  nation  of  Europe,  that  the 
various  principles  of  our  civilization,  under  forms  a  little 
varied,  at  epochs  a  little  apart,  have  displayed  these  irre- 
concilable pretensions.  The  historic  schools  which  I  have 
enumerated-are  met  with  everywhere. 

This  fact  is  important,  not  in  itself,  but  because  it  reveals 
some  other  facts  which  make  a  great  figure  in  our  history. 
By  this  simultaneous  advancement  of  claims  the  most  op- 
posed to  the  exclusive  possession  of  power,  in  the  first 
stage  of  modern  Europe,  two  important  facts  are  revealed  : 
first,  the  principle,  the  idea  of  political  legitimacy ;  an 
idea  which  has  played  a  considerable  part  in  the  progress 
of  European  civilization.  The  second  is  the  particular, 
the  true  character  of  the  state  of  barbarian  Europe 
during  that  period,  which  now  more  expressly  demands 
attention. 

It  is  my  task,  then,  to  explain  these  two  facts  5  and  to 
show  you  how  they  may  be  fairly  deduced  from  the  early 
struggle  of  the  pretensions  which  I  have  just  called  to 
your  notice, 

6* 


66  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Now  what  do  these  various  elements  of  our  civiliza- 
tion,— ^^vhat  do  theocracy,  mouarchjr,  aristocracy,  and  de- 
mocracy aim  at,  when  they  each  endeavour  to  make  out 
that  it  alone  was  the  first  which  held  possession  of  Euro- 
pean society  1  Is  it  any  thing  beyond  the  desire  of  each 
to  establish  its  sole  claim  to  legitimacy  %  For  what  is 
political  legitimacy  1  Evidently  nothing  more  than  a 
right  founded  upon  antiquity,  upon  duration,  which  is 
obvious  from  the  simple  fact,  that  priority  of  time  is 
pleaded  as  the  source  of  right,  as  proof  of  legitimate 
power.  But,  observe  again,  this  claim  is  not  peculiar  to 
one  system,  to  one  element  of  our  civilization,  but  is  made 
alike  by  all.  The  political  writers  of  the  Continent  have 
been  in  the  habit,  for  some  time  past,  of  regarding  legiti- 
macy as  belonging,  exclusively,  to  the  monarchical  sys- 
tem. This  is  an  error ;  legitimacy  may  be  found  in  all 
the  systems.  It  has  already  been  shown  that,  of  the  va- 
rious elements  of  our  civilization,  each  wished  to  appro- 
priate it  to  itself.  But  advance  a  few  steps  further  into 
the  history  of  Europe,  and  you  will  see  social  forms  of 
government,  the  most  opposed  in  principles,  alike  in  pos- 
session of  this  legitimacy.  The  Italian  and  Swiss  aris- 
tocraries  and  democracies,  the  little  republic  of  San 
Marino,  as  well  as  the  most  powerful  monarchies,  have 
considered  themselves  legitimate,  and  have  been  acknow- 
ledged as  such  ;  all  founding  their  claim  to  this  title  upon 
the  antiquity  of  their  institutions;  upon  the  historical 
priority  and  duration  of  their  particular  system  of  gov- 
ernment. 

If  we  leave  modern  Europe,  and  turn  our  attention  to 
other  times  and  to  other  countries,  we  shall  everywhere 
find  this  same  notion  prevail  respecting  political  legitima- 
cy. It  everywhere  attaches  itself  to  some  portion  of  gov- 
ernment j  to  some  institution ;  to  some  form,  or  to  some 
maxim.     There  is  no  country,  no  time,  in  which  you  may 


CIVILIZATION    IX    MODERN    EUROPE.  67 

not  discover  some  portion  of  the  social  system,  some 
public  authority,  that  has  assumed,  and  been  acknow- 
ledged to  possess,  this  character  of  legitimacy,  arising 
from  antiquity,  prescription,  and  duration. 

Let  us  for  a  moment  see  what  this  legitimacy  is  1  of 
what  it  is  composed  \  what  it  requires  1  and  how  it  found 
its  way  into  European  civilization  \ 

You  will  find  that  all  power — I  say  all,  without  distinc- 
tion— owes  its  existence  in  the  first  place  partly  to  force. 
I  do  not  say  that  force  alone  has  been,  in  all  cases,  the 
foundation  of  power,  or  that  this,  without  any  other  title, 
could  in  every  case  have  been  established  by  force  alone. 
Other  claims  undoubtedly  are  requisite.  Certain  powers 
become  established  in  consequence  of  certain  social  ex- 
pediencies, of  certain  relations  with  the  state  of  society, 
with  its  customs  or  opinions.  But  it  is  impossible  to 
close  our  eyes  to  th-e  fact,  that  violence  has  sullied  the 
birth  of  all  the  authorities  in  the  world,  whatever  may 
have  been  their  nature  or  their  form. 

This  origin,  however,  no  one  will  acknowledge.  All 
authorities,  whatever  their  nature,  disclaim  it.  None  of 
them  will  allow  themselves  to  be  considered  as  the  off- 
spring of  force.  Governments  are  warned  by  an  invin- 
cible instinct  that  force  is  no  title — that  might  is  not  right 
— and  that,  while  they  rest  upon  no  other  foundation  than 
violence,  they  are  entirely  destitute  of  right.  Hence,  if 
we  go  back  to  some  distant  period,  in  which  the  various 
systems,  the  various  powers,  are  found  struggling  one 
against  the  other,  we  shall  hear  them  each  exclaiming, 
"I  existed  before  you  ;  my  claim  is  the  oldest ;  my  claim 
rests  upon  other  grounds  than  force  ;  societjr  belonged 
to  me  before  this  state  of  violence,  before  this  strife  in 
which  you  now  find  me.  I  was  legitimate  j  I  have  been 
opposed,  and  my  rights  have  been  torn  from  me." 

This  fact  alone  proves  that  the  idea  of  violence  is  not 


68  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

the  foundation  of  political  legitimacy, — that  it  rests  upon 
some  other  basis.  This  disavowal  of  violence  made  by 
every  system,  proclaims,  as  plainly  as  facts  can  speak, 
that  there  is  another  legitimacy,  the  true  foundation  of  all 
the  others,  the  legitimacy  of  reason,  of  justice,  of  right. 
It  is  to  this  origin  that  they  seek  to  link  themselves.  As 
they  feel  scandalized  at  the  very  idea  of  being  the  ojET- 
spring  of  force,  they  pretend  to  be  invested,  by  virtue  of 
their  antiquity,  with  a  different  title.  The  first  charac- 
teristic, then,  of  political  legitimacy,  is  to  disclaim  vio- 
lence as  the  source  of  authority,  and  to  associate  it  with 
a  moral  notion,  a  moral  force — with  the  notion  of  justice, 
of  right,  of  reason.  This  is  the  primary  element  from 
which  the  principle  of  political  legitimacy  has  sprung 
forth.  It  has  issued  from  it,  aided  by  time,  aided  by  pre- 
scription.    Let  us  see  how. 

Violence  presides  at  the  birth  of  governments,  at  the 
birth  of  societies;  but  time  rolls  on.  He  changes  the 
works  of  violence.  He  corrects  them.  He  corrects  them, 
simply,  because  society  endures,  and  because  it  is  com- 
posed of  men.  Man  bears  within  himself  certain  notions 
of  order,  of  justice,  of  reason,  with  a  certain  desire  to 
bring  them  into  play — he  wishes  to  see  them  predominate 
in  the  sphere  in  which  he  moves.  For  this  he  labours 
unceasingly ;  and  if  the  social  system  in  which  he  lives, 
continues,  his  labour  is  not  in  vain.  Man  naturally  brings 
reason,  morality,  and  legitimacy  into  the  world  in  which 
he  liyes. 

Independently  of  the  labour  of  man,  by  a  special  law 
of  Providence  which  it  is  impossible  to  mistake,  a  law 
analogous  to  that  which  rules  the  material  world,  there  is 
a  certain  degree  of  order,  of  intelligence,  of  justice,  indis- 
pensable to  the  duration  of  human  society.  From  the 
simple  fact  of  its  duration  we  may  argue,  that  a  society 
is  not  completely  irrational,  savage,  or  iniquitous ;  that  it 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  69 

is  not  altogether  destitute  of  intelligence,  truth,  and  jus- 
tice, for  without  these  society  cannot  hold  together. 
Again,  as  society  develops  itself,  it  becomes  stronger, 
more  powerful ;  if  the  social  system  is  continually  aug- 
mented by  the  increase  of  individuals  who  accept  and 
approve  its  regulations,  it  is  because  the  action  of  time 
gradually  introduces  into  it  more  right,  more  intelligence, 
more  justice  ',  it  is  because  a  gradual  approximation  is 
made  in  its  affairs  to  the  principles  of  true  legitimacy. 

Thus  forces  itself  into  the  world,  and  from  the  world 
into  the  mind  of  man,  the  notion  of  political  legitimacy. 
Its  foundation,  in  the  first  place,  at  least  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, is  moral  legitimacy — is  justice,  intelligence,  and 
truth  j  it  next  obtains  the  sanction  of  time,  which  gives 
reason  to  believe  that  affairs  nre  conducted  by  reason, 
that  the  true  legitimacy  has  been  introduced.  At  the 
epoch  which  we  are  about  to  study,  you  will  find  violence 
and  fraud  hovering  over  the  cradle  of  monarchy,  aristoc- 
racy, democracy,  and  even  over  the  church  itself ;  you 
will  see  this  violence  and  fraud  everywhere  gradually 
abated;  and  justice  and  truth  taking  their  place  in  civili- 
zation. It  is  this  introduction  of  justice  and  truth  into 
our  social  system,  that  has  nourished  and  gradually  ma- 
tured political  legitimacy ;  and  it  is  thus  that  it  has  taken 
firm  root  in  modern  civilization. 

All  those  then  who  have  attempted  at  various  times  to 
set  up  this  idea  of  legitimacy  as  the  foundation  of  abso- 
lute power,  have  wrested  it  from  its  true  origin.  It  has 
nothing  to  do  with  absolute  power.  It  is  under  the  name 
of  justice  and  righteousness  that  it  has  made  its  way  into 
the  world  and  found  footing.  Neither  is  it  exclusive.  It 
belongs  to  no  party  in  particular ;  it  springs  up  in  all 
systems  where  truth  and  justice  prevail.  Political  legiti- 
macy is  as  much  attached  to  liberty  as  to  power  ;  to  the 
rights  of  individuals  as  to  the  forms  under  which  are  ex- 


70  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

ercised  the  public  functions.  As  we  go  on  we  shall  find 
it,  as  I  said  before,  in  systems  the  most  opposed ;  in  the 
feudal  system ;  in  the  free  cities  of  Flanders  and  Ger- 
many ;  in  the  republics  of  Italy,  as  well  as  in  monarchy. 
It  is  a  quality  which  appertains  to  all  the  divers  elements 
of  our  civilization,  and  which  it  is  necessary  should  be  well 
understood  before  entering  upon  its  history. 

The  second  fact  revealed  to  us  by  that  simultaneous 
advancement  of  claims,  of  which  I  spoke  at  the  beginning 
of  this  lecture,  is  the  true  character  of  what  is  called  the 
period  of  barbarism.  Each  of  the  elements  of  European 
civilization  pretends,  that  at  this  epoch  Europe  belonged 
to  it  alone  ;  hence  we  may  conclude  that  it  really  be- 
longed to  no  one  of  them.  When  any  particular  kind  of 
government  prevails  in  the  world,  there  is  no  difficulty  in 
recognising  it.  When  we  come  to  the  tenth  century,  we 
acknowledge,  without  hesitation,  the  preponderance  of 
feudalism.  At  the  seventeenth  we  have  no  hesitation  in 
asserting,  that  the  monarchical  principle  prevails.  If  we 
turn  our  eyes  to  the  free  communities  of  Flanders,  to  the 
republics  of  Italy,  we  confess  at  once  the  predominance 
of  democracy.  Whenever,  indeed,  any  one  principle  re- 
ally bears  sway  in  society,  it  cannot  be  mistaken. 

The  dispute,  then,  that  has  arisen  among  the  various 
systems  which  hold  a  part  in  European  civilization,  re- 
specting which  bore  chief  sway  at  its  origin,  proves  that 
they  all  existed  there  together,  without  any  one  of  them 
having  prevailed  so  generally  as  to  give  to  society  its 
form  or  its  name. 

This  is,  indeed,  the  character  of  the  dark  age  :  it  was  a 
chaos  of  all  the  elements  ;  the  childhood  of  all  the  sys- 
tems; a  universal  jumble,  in  Avhich  even  strife  itself  was 
neither  permanent  nor  systematic.  By  an  examination  of 
the  social  system  of  this  period  under  its  various  forms, 
I  could  show  you  that  in  no  part  of  them  is  there  to  be 


CIVILIZATION    IN   MODERN    EUROPE.  71 

found  anything  like  a  general  principle,  anything  like  sta- 
bility. I  shall,  however,  confine  myself  to  two  essential 
particulars — the  state  of  persons,  the  state  of  institutions. 
This  will  be  sufficient  to  give  a  general  picture  of  society. 

We  find  at  this  time  four  classes  of  persons  :  1st.  Free- 
men, that  is  to  say,  men  who,  depending  upon  no  supe- 
rior, upon  no  patron,  held  their  property  and  life  in  full 
liberty,  without  being  fettered  by  any  obligation  towards 
another  individual.  2d.  The  Luedes,  Fidel es,  Antrus- 
tions^  &c.,  who  wxre  connected  at  first  by  the  relationship 
of  companion  and  chief,  and  afterwards  by  that  of  vassal 
and  lord,  towards  another  individual  to  whom  they  owed 
fealty  and  service,  in  consequence  of  a  grant  of  lands,  or 
some  other  gifts.     3d.  Freedmen.     4th.  Slaves. 

But  were  these  various  classes  fixed  ]  Were  men  once 
placed  in  a  certain  rank  bound  to  it  ]  Were  the  relations, 
in  which  the  different  classes  stood  towards  each  other, 
regular  or  permanent  1  Not  at  all.  Freemen  were  con- 
tinually changing  their  condition,  and  becoming  vassals 
to  nobles,  in  consideration  of  some  gift  which  these  might 
have  to  bestow;  w^hile  others  were  falling  into  the  class 
of  slaves  or  serfs.  Vassals  were  continually  struggling  to 
shake  off  the  yoke  of  patronage,  to  regain  their  indepen- 
dence, to  return  to  the  class  of  freemen.  Every  part  of 
society  was  in  motion.  There  was  a  continual  passing  and 
repassing  from  one  class  to  the  other.  No  man  contin- 
ued long  in  the  same  rank ;  no  rank  continued  long  the 
same. 

Property  was  in  much  the  same  state.  I  need  scarcely 
tell  you,  that  possessions  were  distinguished  into  allodial^ 
or  entirely  free,  and  beneficiary^  or  such  as  w^ere  held  by 
tenure,  wdth  certain  obligations  to  be  discharged  towards 
a  superior.  Some  writers  attempt  to  trace  out  a  regular 
and  established  system  with  respect  to  the  latter  class  of 
proprietors,  and  lay  it  down  as  a  rule  that  benefices  were 


72  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

at  first  bestowed  for  a  determinate  number  of  years ;  that 
they  were  afterwards  granted  for  life  ;  and  finally,  at  a 
later  period,  became  hereditary.  The  attempt  is  vain. 
Lands  were  held  in  all  these  various  ways  at  the  same 
time,  and  in  the  same  places.  Benefices  for  a  term  of 
years,  benefices  for  life,  hereditary  benefices,  are  found  in 
the  same  period  ;  even  the  same  lands,  within  a  few  years, 
passed  through  these  different  states.  There  was  noth- 
ing more  settled,  nothing  more  general,  in  the  state  of  lands 
than  in  the  state  of  persons.  Every  thing  shows  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  transition  from  the  wandering  life  to  the 
settled  life  ;  from  the  simple  personal  relations  which  ex- 
isted among  the  barbarians  as  invading  migratory  hordes, 
to  the  mixed  relations  of  persons  and  property.  During 
this  transition  all  was  confused,  local,  and  disordered. 

In  institutions  we  observe  the  same  unfixedness,  the 
same  chaos.  We  find  here  three  different  systems  at 
once  before  us : — 1st.  Monarchy  ;  2d.  Aristocracy,  or  the 
proprietorship  of  men  and  lands,  as  lord  and  vassal  j  and, 
3dly.  Free  institutions,  or  assemblies  of  free  men  delibe- 
rating in  common.  No  one  of  these  systems  entirely 
prevailed.  Free  institutions  existed ;  but  the  men  who 
should  have  formed  part  of  these  assemblies  seldom  trou- 
bled themselves  to  attend  them.  Baronial  jurisdiction 
was  not  more  regularly  exercised.  Monarchy,  the  most 
simple  institution,  the  most  easy  to  determine,  here  had 
no  fixed  character  5  at  one  time  it  was  elective,  at  another 
hereditary — here  the  son  succeeded  to  his  father,  there 
the  election  was  confined  to  a  family  ;  in  another  place  it 
was  open  to  all,  purely  elective,  and  the  choice  fell  on  a 
distant  relation,  or  perhaps  a  stranger.  In  none  of  these 
systems  can  we  discover  anything  fixed  ;  all  the  institu- 
tions, as  well  as  the  social  conditions,  dwelt  together, 
continually  confounded,  continually  changing. 

The  same  unsettledness  existed  with  regard  to  states  j 


CIVILIZATION    IN   MODERN    EUROPE.  73 

they  were  created,  suppressed,  united,  and  divided ;  no 
governments,  no  frontiers,  no  nations  j  a  general  jumble 
of  situations,  principles,  events,  races,  languages :  such 
was  barbarian  Europe. 

Let  us  now  fix  the  limits  of  this  extraordinary  period. 
Its  origin  is  strongly  defined  ;  it  began  with  the  fall  of  the 
Roman  empire.  But  where  did  it  close  1  To  settle  this 
question,  we  must  find  out  the  cause  of  this  state  of  so- 
ciety ;  we  must  see  what  were  the  causes  of  barbarism. 

I  think  I  can  point  out  two  : — one  material,  arising  from 
exterior  circumstances,  from  the  course  of  events ;  the 
other,  moral,  arising  from  the  mind,  from  the  intellects  of 
man. 

The  material,  or  outward  cause,  was  the  continuance  of 
invasion ;  for  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  invasions 
of  the  barbarian  hordes  stopped  all  at  once,  in  the  fifth 
century.  Do  not  believe  that  because  the  Roman  empire 
was  fallen,  and  kingdoms  of  barbarians  founded  upon  its 
ruins,  that  the  movement  of  nations  was  over.  There  are 
plenty  of  facts  to  prove  that  this  was  not  the  case,  and 
that  this  movement  lasted  a  long  time  after  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  empire. 

If  we  look  to  the  Franks,  or  French,  we  shall  find  even 
the  first  race  of  kings  continually  carrying  on  wars  be- 
yond the  Rhine.  We  see  Clotaire,  Dagobert,  making 
expedition  after  expedition  into  Germany,  and  engaged 
in  a  constant  struggle  with  the  Thuringians,  the  Danes, 
and  the  Saxons  who  occupied  the  right  bank  of  that  river. 
And  why  was  this  but  because  these  nations  wished  to 
cross  the  Rhine  and  get  a  share  in  the  spoils  of  the  em- 
pire ]  How  came  it  to  pass  that  the  Franks,  established 
in  Gaul,  and  principally  the  Eastern,  or  Austrasian  Franks, 
much  about  the  same  time,  threw  themselves  in  such 
large  bodies  upon  Switzerland,  and  invaded  Italy  by  cross- 
ing the  Alps  1     It  was  because  they  were  pushed  forward 

7 


T4j  general  history  of 

by  new  populations  from  the  north-east.  These  invasions 
were  not  mere  pillaging  inroads,  they  were  not  expedi- 
tions undertaken  for  the  purpose  of  plunder,  they  were 
the  result  of  necessity.  The  people,  disturbed  in  their 
own  settlements,  pressed  forward  to  better  their  fortune 
and  find  new  abodes  elsewhere.  A  new  German  nation 
entered  upon  the  arena,  and  founded  the  powerful  king- 
dom of  the  Lombards  in  Italy.  In  Gaul,  or  France,  the 
Merovinginian  dynasty  gav^e  way  to  the  Carlovingian  j  a 
change  which  is  now  generally  acknowledged  to  have 
been,  properly  speaking,  a  new  irruption  of  Franks  into 
Gaul — a  movement  of  nations,  which  substituted  the  Eas- 
tern Franks  for  the  Western.  Under  the  second  race  of 
kings,  we  find  Charlemagne  playing  the  same  part  against 
the  Saxons,  which  the  Merovinginian  princes  played 
against  the  Thuringians :  he  carried  on  an  unceasing  war 
against  the  nations  beyond  the  Rhine,  who  were  precipi- 
tated upon  the  west  by  the  Wiltzians,  the  Swabians,  the 
Bohemians,  and  the  various  tribes  of  Slavonians,  who  trod 
on  the  heels  of  the  German  race.  Throughout,  the  north- 
east emigrations  were  going  on  and  changing  the  face  of 
affairs. 

In  the  south,  a  movement  of  the  same  nature  took 
place.  While  the  German  and  Slavonian  tribes  pressed 
along  the  Rhine  and  Danube,  the  Saracens  began  to  ravage 
and  conquer  the  various  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean. 

The  invasion  of  the  Saracens,  however,  had  a  charac- 
ter peculiarly  its  own.  In  them  the  spirit  of  conquest 
was  united  with  the  spirit  of  proselytism  j  the  sword  was 
drawn  as  well  for  the  promulgation  of  a  faith  as  the  ac- 
quisition of  territory.  There  is  a  vast  difference  between 
their  invasion  and  that  of  the  Germans.  In  the  Chris- 
tian world  spiritual  force  and  temporal  force  were  quite 
distinct.  The  zeal  for  the  propagation  of  a  faith 
and  the  lust  of  conquest  are  not  inmates  of  the   same 


CIVILIZATION   IN   MODERN   EUROPE.  75 

bosom.  The  Germans,  after  their  conversion,  preserved 
the  same  manners,  the  same  sentiments,  the  same  tastes, 
as  before  ;  they  were  still  guided  by  passions  and  interests 
of  a  worldly  nature.  They  had  become  Christians,  but 
not  missionaries.  The  Saracens,  on  the  contrary,  were 
both  conquerors  and  missionaries.  The  power  of  the 
Koran  and  of  the  sword  was  in  the  same  hands.  And  it 
was  this  peculiarity  which,  I  think,  gave  to  Mohammedan 
civilization  the  wretched  character  which  it  bears.  It 
was  in  this  union  of  the  temporal  and  spiritual  powers, 
and  the  confusion  which  it  created  between  moral  autho- 
rity and  physical  force,  that  that  tyranny  was  born  which 
seems  inherent  in  their  civilization.  This  I  believe  to  be 
the  principal  cause  of  that  stationary  state  into  which  it 
has  everywhere  fallen.  This  effect,  however,  did  not 
show  itself  upon  the  first  rise  of  Mohammedanism  ;  the 
union,  on  the  contrary,  of  military  ardour  and  religious 
zeal,  gave  to  the  Saracen  invasion  a  prodigious  power. 
Its  ideas  and  moral  passions  had  at  once  a  brilliancy  and 
splendour  altogether  wanting  in  the  Germanic  invasions ; 
it  displayed  itself  with  more  energy  and  enthusiasm,  and 
had  a  correspondent  effect  upon  the  minds  and  passions 
of  men. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  Europe  from  the  fifth  to  the 
ninth  century.  .  Pressed  on  the  south  by  the  Mohamme- 
dans, and  on  the  north  by  the  Germans  and  Slavonians, 
it  could  not  be  otherwise  than  that  the  reaction  of  this 
double  invasion  should  keep  the  interior  of  Europe  in  a 
state  of  continual  ferment.  Populations  were  incessantly 
displaced,  crowded  one  upon  another  ;  there  was  no  regu- 
larity, nothing  permanent  or  fixed.  Some  differences 
undoubtedly  prevailed  between  the  various  nations.  The 
chaos  was  more  general  in  Germany  than  in  the  other 
parts  of  Europe.  Here  was  the  focus  of  movement. 
France    was   more    agitated  than   Italy.      But  nowhere 


76  GENERAL  HISTORY   OP 

could  society  become  settled  and  regulated  j  barbarism 
everywhere  continued,  and  from  the  same  cause  that 
introduced  it. 

Thus  much  for  the  material  cause  depending  upon  the 
course  of  events  ;  let  us  now  look  to  the  moral  cause, 
founded  on  the  intellectual  condition  of  man,  which,  it 
must  be  acknowledged,  was  not  less  powerful. 

For,  certainly,  after  all  is  said  and  done,  whatever  may 
be  the  course  of  external  affairs,  it  is  man  himself  who 
makes  our  world.  It  is  according  to  the  ideas,  the  senti- 
ments, the  moral  and  intellectual  dispositions  of  man  him- 
self, that  the  world  is  regulated,  and  marches  onward.  It 
is  upon  the  intellectual  state  of  man  that  the  visible  form 
of  society  depends. 

Now  let  us  consider  for  a  moment  what  is  required 
to  enable  men  to  form  themselves  into  a  society  some- 
what durable,  somewhat  regular  1  It  is  evidently  neces- 
sary, in  the  first  place,  that  they  should  have  a  certain 
number  of  ideas  sufficiently  enlarged  to  settle  upon  the 
terms  by  which  this  society  should  be  formed ;  to  apply 
themselves  to  its  wants,  to  its  relations.  In  the  second 
place,  it  is  necessary  that  these  ideas  should  be  common 
to  the  greater  part  of  the  members  of  the  society ;  and 
finally,  that  they  should  put  some  constraint  upon  their 
owTi  inclinations  and  actions. 

It  is  clear  that  Avhere  men  possess  no  ideas  extending 
beyond  their  own  existence,  where  their  intellectual  hori- 
zon is  bounded  in  self,  that  if  they  are  still  delivered  up 
to  their  owai  passions,  and  their  own  wills, — if  they  have 
not  among  them  a  certain  number  of  notions  and  senti- 
ments common  to  them  all,  round  which  they  may  all 
rally,  it  is  clear  that  they  cannot  form  a  society :  without 
this  each  individual  will  be  a  principle  of  agitation  and 
dissolution  in  the  social  system  of  which  he  forms  a 
part. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  77 

Wherever  individualism  reigns  nearly  absolute,  wherev- 
er man  considers  but  himself,  wherever  his  ideas  extend 
not  beyond  himself,  wherever  he  only  yields  obedience  to 
his  own  passions,  there  society — that  is  to  say,  society  in 
any  degree  extended  or  permanent — becomes  almost  im- 
possible. Now  this  was  just  the  moral  state  of  the  con- 
querors of  Europe  at  the  epoch  which  engages  our  atten- 
tion. I  remarked,  in  the  last  lecture,  that  we  owe  to  the 
Germans  the  powerful  sentiment  of  personal  liberty,  of 
human  individualism.  Now,  in  a  state  of  extreme  rude- 
ness and  ignorance,  this  sentiment  is  mere  selfishness,  in 
all  its  brutality,  with  all  its  unsociability.  Such  w^as  its 
character  from  the  fifth  to  the  eighth  century,  among  the 
Germans.  They  cared  for  nothing  beyond  their  own 
interest,  for  nothing  beyond  the  gratification  of  their  ow^n 
passions,  their  o\\ti  inclinations  j  how,  then,  could  they 
accommodate  themselves,  in  any  tolerable  degree,  to  the 
social  condition  1  The  attempt  was  made  to  bring  them 
into  it ;  they  endeavoured  of  themselves  to  enter  into  it  j 
but  an  act  of  improvidence,  a  burst  of  passion,  a  lack  of 
intelligence,  soon  threw^  them  back  to  their  old  position. 
At  every  instant  we  see  attempts  made  to  form  man  into 
a  social  state,  and  at  every  instant  we  see  them  over- 
thro^Am  by  the  failings  of  man,  by  the  absence  of  the  mo- 
ral conditions  necessary  to  its  existence. 

Such  were  the  two  causes  which  kept  our  forefathers  in 
a  state  of  barbarism  j  so  long  as  these  continued,  so  long 
barbarism  endured.  Let  us  see  if  we  can  discover  when 
and  from  what  causes  it  at  last  ceased. 

Europe  laboured  to  emerge  from  this  state.  It  is  con- 
trary to  the  nature  of  man,  even  when  sunk  into  it  by  his 
own  fault,  to  wish  to  remain  in  it.  However  rude,  how- 
ever ignorant,  however  selfish,  however  headstrong,  there 
is  yet  in  him  a  still  small  voice,  an  instinct,  which  tells 

him  he  was  made  for  something  better ; — that  he  has  an- 

7# 


78  GENERAL   HISTORY   OP 

Other  and  higher  destiny.  In  the  midst  of  confusion  and 
disorder,  he  is  haunted  and  tormented  by  a  taste  for  order 
and  improvement.  The  claims  of  justice,  of  prudence,  of 
development,  disturb  him,  even  under  the  yoke  of  the  most 
brutish  egotism.  He  feels  himself  impelled  to  improve 
the  material  world,  society  and  himself  5  he  labours  to  do 
this,  without  attempting  to  account  to  himself  for  the  want 
which  urges  him  to  the  task.  The  barbarians  aspired  to 
civilization,  while  they  were  yet  incapable  of  it — nay, 
more — ^^vhile  they  even  detested  it  whenever  its  laws  re- 
strained their  selfish  desires. 

There  still  remained,  too,  a  considerable  number  of 
wrecks  and  fragments  of  Roman  civilization.  The  name 
of  the  empire,  the  remembrance  of  that  great  and  glorious 
society  still  dwelt  in  the  memory  of  many,  and  especially 
among  the  senators  of  cities,  bishops,  priests,  and  all 
those  who  could  trace  their  origin  to  the  Roman  world. 

Among  the  barbarians  themselves,  or  their  barbarian 
ancestors,  many  had  witnessed  the  greatness  of  the  Roman 
empire:  they  had  served  in  its  armies:  they  had  con- 
quered it.  The  image,  the  name  of  Roman  civilization 
dazzled  them ;  they  felt  a  desire  to  imitate  it :  to  bring  it 
back  again,  to  preserve  some  portion  of  it.  This  was  an- 
other cause  which  ought  to  have  forced  them  out  of  the 
state  of  barbarism,  which  I  have  described. 

A  third  cause,  and  one  which  readily  presents  itself  to 
every  one,  was  the  Christian  Church.  The  Christian  Church 
was  a  regularly  constituted  society ;  having  its  maxims, 
its  rules,  its  discipline,  together  with  an  ardent  desire  to 
extend  its  influence,  to  conquer  its  conquerors.  Among 
the  Christians  of  this  period,  in  the  catholic  clergy,  there 
were  men  of  profound  and  varied  learning  ;  men  who  had 
thought  deeply,  who  were  versed  in  ethics  and  politics  ; 
who  had  formed  definite  opinions  and  vigorous  notions, 
upon  all  subjects  5  who  felt  a  praiseworthy  zeal  to  propa- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  79 

gate  information,  and  to  advance  the  cause  of  learning. 
No  society  ever  made  greater  efforts  than  the  Christian 
Church  did  from  the  fifth  to  the  tenth  century,  to  influ- 
ence the  world  around  it,  and  to  assimilate  it  to  itself. 
When  its  history -shall  become  the  particular  object  of 
our  examination,  we  shall  more  clearly  see  what  it  attempt- 
ed— it  attacked,  in  a  manner,  barbarism  at  every  point,  in 
order  to  civilize  it  and  rule  over  it. 

Finally,  a  fourth  cause  of  the  progress  of  civilization,  a 
cruise  which  it  is  impossible  strictly  to  appreciate,  but 
which  is  not  therefore  the  less  real,  was  the  appearance 
of  great  men.  To  say  why  a  great  man  appears  on  the 
stage  at  a  certain  epoch,  or  w^hat  of  his  OAvn  individual  de- 
velopment he  imparts  to  the  world  at  large,  is  beyond  our 
power  ;  it  is  the  secret  of  Providence ;  but  the  fact  is 
still  certain.  There  are  men  to  whom  the  spectacle  of 
society,  in  a  state  of  anarchy  or  immobility,  is  revolting 
and  almost  unbearable  ;  it  occasions  them  an  intellectual 
shudder,  as  a  thing  that  should  not  be  j  they  feel  an  un- 
conquerable desire  to  change  it ;  to  restore  order  5  to  in- 
troduce something  general,  regular  and  permanent,  into 
the  world  which  is  placed  before  them.  Tremendous 
power !  often  tyrannical,  committing  a  thousand  iniqui- 
ties, a  thousand  errors,  for  human  weakness  accompanies 
it.  Glorious  and  salutary  power  !  nevertheless,  for  it 
gives  to  humanity,  and  by  the  hand  of  man,  a  new  and 
powerful  impulse. 

These  various  causes,  these  various  powers  working  to- 
gether, led  to  several  attempts,  between  the  fifth  and  ninth 
centuries,  to  draw  European  society  from  the  barbarous 
state  into  which  it  had  fallen. 

The  first  of  these  was  the  compilation  of  the  barbarian 
laws  ;  an  attempt  which,  though  it  effected  but  little,  we 
cannot  pass  over,  because  it  was  made  by  the  barbarians 
themselves.    Between  the  sixth  and  eighth  centuries,  the 


80  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

laws  of  nearly  all  the  barbarous  nations,  (which  however 
were  nothing  more  than  the  rude  customs  by  which  they 
had  been  regulated,  before  their  invasion  of  the  Roman 
empire,)  were  reduced  to  writing.  Of  these  there  are  enu- 
merated the  codes  of  the  Burgundians,  the  Salii,  and  Ri- 
puarian  Franks,  the  Visigoths,  the  Lombards,  the  Saxons, 
the  Prisons,  the  Bavarians,  the  Germans,  and  some  others. 
This  was  evidently  a  commencement  of  civilization — an 
attempt  to  bring  society  under  the  authority  of  general 
and  fixed  principles.  Much  however  could  not  be  ex- 
pected from  it.  It  published  the  laws  of  a  society  which 
no  longer  existed ;  the  laws  of  the  social  system  of  the 
barbarians  before  their  establishment  in  the  Roman  terri- 
tory— before  they  had  changed  their  wandering  life  for  a 
settled  one ;  before  the  nomad  warriors  became  lost  in 
the  landed  proprietors.  It  is  true,  that  here  and  there 
may  be  found  an  article  respecting  the  lands  conquered 
by  the  barbarians,  or  respecting  their  relations  with  the 
ancient  inhabitants  of  the  country  ;  some  few  bold  attempts 
w^ere  made  to  regulate  the  new  circumstances  in  which 
they  were  placed.  But  the  far  greater  part  of  these  laws 
were  taken  up  with  their  ancient  life,  their  ancient  condi- 
tion in  Germany,  were  totally  inapplicable  to  the  new 
state  of  society,  and  had  but  a  small  share  in  its  advance- 
ment. 

In  Italy  and  the  south  of  Gaul,  another  attempt  of  a 
different  character  was  made  about  this  time.  In  these 
places  Roman  society  had  not  been  so  completely  rooted 
out  as  elsewhere  ',  in  the  cities,  especially,  there  still 
remained  something  of  order  and  civil  life ;  and  in  these 
civilization  seemed  to  make  a  stand.  If  we  look,  for  ex- 
ample, at  the  kingdom  of  the  Ostrogoths  in  Italy  under 
Theodoric,  we  shall  see,  even  under  the  dominion  of  a 
barbarous  nation  and  king,  the  municipal  form  taking 
breath,  as  it  were,  and  exercising  a  considerable  influence 


CIVILIZATION    IN   MODERN   EUROPE.  81 

upon  the  general  tide  of  events.  Here  Roman  manners 
had  modified  the  Gothic,  and  brought  them  in  a  great 
degree  to  assume  a  likeness  to  their  own.  The  same 
thing  took  place  in  the  south  of  Gaul.  At  the  opening 
of  the  sixth  century  Alaric,  a  Visigothic  king  of  Tou- 
louse, caused  a  collection  of  the  Roman  laws  to  be  made, 
and  published  under  the  name  of  Breviarum  Aniani^  a 
code  for  his  Roman  subjects. 

In  Spain,  a  different  power,  that  of  the  Church,  endea- 
voured to  restore  the  work  of  civilization.  Instead  of 
the  ancient  German  assemblies  of  warriors,  the  assembly 
that  had  most  influence  in  Spain  was  the  council  of  To- 
ledo ;  and  in  this  council  the  bishops  bore  sway,  although 
it  was  attended  by  the  higher  order  of  the  laity.  Open 
the  laws  of  the  Visigoths,  and  you  will  discover  that  it  is 
not  a  code  compiled  by  barbarians,  but  bears  convincing 
marks  of  having  been  drawn  up  by  the  philosophers  of 
the  age — ^by  the  clergy.  It  abounds  in  general  views,  in 
theories,  and  in  theories,  indeed,  altogether  foreign  to 
barbarian  manners.  Thus,  for  example,  we  know  that  the 
legislation  of  the  barbarians  was  a  personal  legislation  ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  same  law  only  applied  to  one  particular 
race  of  men.  The  Romans  were  judged  by  the  old  Ro- 
man laws,  the  Franks  were  judged  by  the  Salian  or  Ripu- 
arian  code  ;  in  short,  each  people  had  its  separate  laws, 
though  united  under  the  same  government,  and  dwelling 
together  in  the  same  territory.  This  is  what  is  called 
personal  legislation,  in  contradistinction  to  real  legisla- 
tion, which  is  founded  upon  territory.  Now  this  is  ex- 
actly the  case  with  the  legislation  of  the  Visigoths ;  it  is 
not  personal,  but  territorial.  All  the  inhabitants  of  Spain, 
Romans,  Visigoths,  or  what  not,  were  compelled  to  yield 
obedience  to  one  law.  Read  a  little  further,  and  you 
will  meet  with  still  more  striking  traces  of  philosophy. 
Among  the  barbarians  a  fixed  price  was  put  upon  man, 


82  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

according  to  his  rank  in  society — the  Hfe  of  the  barba- 
rian, the  Roman,  the  freeman,  and  vassal,  were  not  valued 
at  the  same  amount — there  was  a  graduated  scale  of 
prices.  But  the  principle  that  all  men's  lives  are  of  equal 
worth  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  was  established  by  the  code 
of  the  Visigoths.  The  same  superiority  is  observable  in 
their  judicial  proceedings : — instead  of  the  ordeal,  the 
oath  of  compurgators,  or  trial  by  battle,  you  will  find  the 
proofs  established  by  witnesses,  and  a  rational  examina- 
tion made  of  the  fact,  such  as  might  take  place  in  a  civil- 
ized society.  In  short,  the  code  of  the  Visigoths  bore 
throughout  evident  marks  of  learning,  system,  and  polity. 
In  it  we  trace  the  hand  of  the  same  clergy  that  acted  in 
the  council  of  Toledo,  and  which  exercised  so  large  and 
beneficial  an  influence  upon  the  government  of  the  coun- 

In  Spain  then,  up  to  the  time  of  the  great  invasion  of 
the  Saracens,  it  was  the  hierarchy  which  made  the  great- 
est efforts  to  advance  civilization. 

In  France,  the  attempt  was  made  by  another  power.  It 
was  the  work  of  great  men,  and  above  all  of  Charle- 
magne. Examine  his  reign  under  its  different  aspects ; 
and  you  will  see  that  the  darling  object  of  his  life  was  to 
civilize  the  nations  he  governed.  Let  us  regard  him  first 
as  a  warrior.  He  was  always  in  the  field  ;  from  the  south 
to  the  north-east,  from  the  Ebro  to  the  Elbe  and  Weser. 
Perhaps  you  imagine  that  these  expeditions  were  the 
effect  of  choice,  and  sprang  from  a  pure  love  of  con- 
quest 1  No  such  thing.  I  will  not  assert  that  he  pursued 
any  very  regular  system,  or  that  there  was  much  diplo- 
macy or  strategy  in  his  plans ;  but  what  he  did  sprang 
from  necessity,  and  a  desire  to  repress  barbarism.  From 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his  reign  he  was  occupied  in 
staying  the  progress  of  a  double  invasion — that  of  the 
Mohammedans  in  the  south,  and  that  of  the  Germanic  and 


CIVILIZATION   IN   MODERN   EUROPE.  83 

Slavonic  tribes  in  the  north.  This  is  what  gave  the  reign 
of  Charlemagne  its  military  cast.  I  have  already  said 
that  his  expeditions  against  the  Saxons  were  undertaken 
for  the  same  purpose.  If  we  pass  on  from  his  wars  to 
his  government,  we  shall  find  the  case  much  the  same : 
his  leading  object  was  to  introduce  order  and  unity  in 
every  part  of  his  extensive  dominions.  I  have  not  said 
kingdom  or  state,  because  these  words  are  too  precise  in 
their  signification,  and  call  up  ideas  which  bear  but  little 
relation  to  the  society  of  which  Charlemagne  stood  at  the 
head.  Thus  much,  however,  seems  certain,  that  when  he 
found  himself  master  of  this  vast  territory,  it  mortified 
and  grieved  him  to  see  all  within  it  so  precarious  and 
unsettled — to  see  anarchy  and  brutality  everywhere  pre- 
vailing,— and  it  was  the  first  wish  of  his  heart  to  better 
this  wretched  condition  of  society.  He  endeavoured  to 
do  this  at  first  by  his  missi  regii,  whom  he  sent  into  every 
part  of  his  dominions  to  find  out  and  correct  abuses  j  to 
amend  the  mal-administration  of  justice,  and  to  render 
him  an  account  of  all  that  was  wrong;  and  afterwards  by 
the  general  assemblies  or  parliaments  as  they  have  been 
called  of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  which  he  held  more  regu- 
larly than  any  of  his  predecessors.  These  assemblies  he 
made  nearly  every  considerable  person  in  his  dominions 
to  attend.  They  were  not  assemblies  formed  for  the 
preservation  of  the  liberty  of  the  subject,  there  was  no- 
thing in  them  bearing  any  likeness  to  the  deliberations  of 
our  own  days.  But  Charlemagne  found  them  a  means 
by  which  he  could  become  u^ell  informed  of  facts  and 
circumstances,  and  by  which  he  could  introduce  some 
regulation,  some  unity,  into  the  restless  and  disorganized 
populations  he  had  to  govern. 

In  whatever  point  of  view,  indeed,  we  regard  the  reign 
of  Charlemagne,  we  always  find  its  leading  characteristic 
to  be  a  desire  to  overcome  barbarism,  and  to  advance 


84  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

civilization.  We  see  this  conspicuously  in  his  founda- 
tion of  schools,  in  his  collecting  of  libraries,  in  his  gath- 
ering about  him  the  learned  of  all  countries ;  in  the  favour 
he  showed  towards  the  influence  of  the  church,  for  every 
thing,  in  a  word,  which  seemed  likely  to  operate  benefi- 
cially upon  society  in  general,  or  the  individual  man. 

An  attempt  of  the  same  nature  was  made  very  soon 
afterwards  in  England,  by  Alfred  the  Great. 

These  are  some  of  the  means  which  were  in  operation, 
from  the  fifth  to  the  ninth  century,  in  various  parts  of 
Europe,  which  seemed  likely  to  put  an  end  to  barbarism. 

None  of  them  succeeded.  Charlemagne  was  unable  to 
establish  his  great  empire,  and  the  system  of  government 
by  which  he  wished  to  rule  it.  The  church  succeeded  no 
better  in  its  attempt  in  Spain  to  found  a  system  of  theo- 
cracy. And  though  in  Italy  and  the  south  of  France, 
Roman  civilization  made  several  attempts  to  raise  its 
head,  it  was  not  till  a  later  period,  till  towards  the  end  of 
the  tenth  century,  that  it  in  reality  acquired  any  vigour. 
Up  to  this  time,  every  effort  to  put  an  end  to  barbarism 
failed :  they  supposed  men  more  advanced  than  they  in 
reality  were.  They  all  desired,  under  various  forms,  to 
establish  a  society  more  extensive,  or  better  regulated, 
than  the  spirit  of  the  age  was  prepared  for.  The  attempts, 
however,  were  not  lost  to  mankind.  At  the  commence- 
ment of  the  tenth  century,  there  was  no  longer  any  visi- 
ble appearance  of  the  great  empire  of  Charlemagne,  nor 
of  the  glorious  councils  of  Toledo,  but  barbarism  was 
drawing  nigh  its  end.     Two  great  results  were  obtained : 

1.  The  movement  of  the  invading  hordes  had  been 
stopped  both  in  the  north  and  in  the  south.  Upon  the 
dismemberment  of  the  empire  of  Charlemagne,  the  states, 
which  became  formed  upon  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine, 
opposed  an  effectual  barrier  to  the  tribes  which  advanced 
from  the  west.     The  Danes  and  Normans  are  an  incon- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  85 

testable  proof  of  this.  Up  to  this  time,  if  we  except  the 
Saxon  attacks  upon  England,  the  invasions  of  the  Ger- 
man tribes  by  sea  had  not  been  very  considerable ;  but  in 
the  course  of  the  ninth  century  they  became  constant  and 
general.  And  this  happened,  because  invasions  by  land 
had  become  exceedingly  difficult ;  society  had  acquired, 
on  this  side,  frontiers  more  fixed  and  secure ;  and  that 
portion  of  the  wandering  nations,  which  could  not  be 
pressed  back,  were  at  least  turned  from  their  ancient 
course,  and  compelled  to  proceed  by  sea.  Great  as  un- 
doubtedly was  the  misery  occasioned  to  the  west  of  Eu- 
rope by  the  incursions  of  these  pirates  and  marauders, 
they  still  were  much  less  hurtful  than  the  invasions  by 
land,  and  disturbed  much  less  generally  the  newly-form- 
ing society.  In  the  south,  the  case  was  much  the  same. 
The  Arabs  had  settled  in  Spain  ;  and  the  struggle  between 
them  and  the  Christians  still  continued ;  but  this  occa- 
sioned no  new  emigration  of  nations.  Bands  of  Saracens 
still,  from  time  to  time,  infested  the  coasts  of  the  Medi- 
terranean, but  the  great  career  of  Islamism  was  arrested. 
2.  In  the  interior  of  Europe  we  begin  at  this  time  to 
see  the  wandering  life  decline  ;  populations  became  fixed  ; 
estates  and  landed  possessions  became  settled ;  the  rela- 
tions between  man  and  man  no  longer  varied  from  day  to 
day  under  the  the  influence  of  force  or  chance.  The  inte- 
rior and  moral  condition  of  man  himself  began  to  undergo 
a  change  ;  his  ideas,  his  sentiments,  began  like  his  life  to 
assume  a  more  fixed  character.  He  began  to  feel  an  at- 
tachment to  the  place  in  which  he  dwelt  j  to  the  connec- 
tions and  associations  which  he  there  formed ;  to  those 
domains  which  he  now  calculated  upon  lea^'ing  to  his 
children ;  to  that  dwelling  which  hereafter  became  his 
castle  ;  to  that  miserable  assemblage  of  serfs  and  slaves, 
which  was  one  day  to  become  a  village.  Little  societies 
everyvvhere  began  to  be  formed  j  little  states  to  be  cut 
8 


86  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

out  according  to  the  measure,  if  I  may  so  say,  of  the 
capacities  and  prudence  of  men.  There,  societies  gradu- 
ally became  connected  by  a  tie,  the  origin  of  which  is  to 
be  found  in  the  manners  of  the  German  barbarians :  the 
tie  of  a  confederation  which  would  not  destroy  individual 
freedom.  On  one  side  we  find  every  considerable  pro- 
prietor settling  himself  in  his  domains,  surrounded  only 
by  his  family  and  retainers ;  on  the  other,  a  certain  gra- 
duated subordination  of  services  and  rights,  existing 
among  all  these  military  proprietors  scattered  over  the 
land.  Here  we  have  the  feudal  system  oozing  at  last  out 
of  the  bosom  of  barbarism.  Of  the  various  elements  of 
our  civilizations,  it  was  natural  enough  that  the  Germanic 
element  should  first  prevail.  It  was  already  in  possession 
of  power ;  it  had  conquered  Europe  :  from  it  European 
civilization  was  to  receive  its  first  form — its  first  social 
organization. 

The  character  of  this  form — the  character  of  feudal- 
ism, and  the  influence  it  has  exercised  upon  European 
civilization — will  be  the  object  of  my  next  lecture  ;  while 
in  the  very  bosom  of  this  system,  in  its  meridian,  we 
shall,  at  every  step,  meet  with  the  other  elements  of  our 
own  social  system,  monarchy,  the  church,  and  the  commu- 
nities or  free  cities.  We  shall  feel  pre-assured  that  these 
were  not  destined  to  fall  under  this  feudal  form,  to  which 
they  adapted  themselves  while  struggling  against  it ;  and 
that  we  may  look  forward  to  the  hour  when  victory  will 
declare  itself  for  them  in  their  turn. 


CIVILIZATION   IN   MODERN    EUROPE.  87 


LECTURE    IV. 


THE      FEUDAL      SYSTEM. 


I  HAVE  thus  far  endeavoured  to  give  you  a  view  of  the 
state  of  Europe  upon  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire ;  of 
its  state  in  the  first  period  of  modern  history — in  the 
period  of  barbarism.  We  have  seen  that  at  the  end  of 
the  period,  towards  the  beginning  of  the  tenth  century, 
the  first  principle,  the  first  system,  which  took  possession 
of  European  society,  was  the  feudal  system — that  out  of 
the  very  bosom  of  barbarism  sprung  feudalism.  The 
investigation  of  this  system  will  be  the  subject  of  the 
present  lecture. 

I  need  scarcely  remind  you  that  it  is  not  the  history  of 
events,  properly  so  called,  that  we  propose  to  consider. 
I  shall  not  here  recount  the  destinies  of  the  feudal  system. 
The  subject  which  engages  our  attention  is  the  history  of 
civilization  ;  it  is  that  general,  hidden  fact  which  we  have 
to  seek  for,  out  of  all  the  exterior  facts  in  which  its  exist- 
ence is  contained. 

Thus  the  events,  the  social  crisises,  the  various  states 
through  which  society  has  passed,  ?AiT^a  no  way  interest 
us,  except  so  far  as  they  are  c  connected  with  the  growth  of 
civilization ;  we  have  only  to  learn  from  them  how  they 
have  retarded  or  forwarded  this  great  work  ;  what  they 
have  given  it,  and  what  they  have  withheld  from  it.  It  is 
only  in  this  point  of  view  that  we  shall  consider  the  feudal 
system. 

In  the  first  of  these  lectures  we  settled  what  civiliza- 
tion was  ;  we  endeavoured  to  discover  its  elements;  we 
Baw  that  it  consisted,  on  one  side,  in  the  develojment  of 


88  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

man  himself,  of  the  individual,  of  humanity  ;  on  the  other, 
of  his  outward  or  social  condition.  When  then  we  come 
to  any  event,  to  any  system,  to  any  general  condition  of 
society,  we  have  this  twofold  question  to  put  to  it,  What 
has  it  done  for  or  against  the  development  of  man — for  or 
against  the  development  of  society  1  It  will,  however, 
be  at  once  seen  that,  in  the  investigation  we  have  under- 
taken, it  will  be  impossible  for  us  not  to  come  in  contact 
with  some  of  the  grandest  questions  in  moral  philosophy. 
When  we  would,  for  example,  know  in  what  an  event,  a 
system,  has  contributed  to  the  progress  of  man,  and  of 
society,  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  know  what  is  the 
true  development  of  society  and  of  man  ;  and  be  enabled 
to  detect  those  developments  which  are  deceitful,  illegiti- 
mate,— which  pervert  instead  of  meliorate, — which  cause 
them  to  retrograde  instead  of  to  advance.  We  shall  not 
attempt  to  elude  this  task.  By  so  doing  we  should  muti- 
late and  weaken  our  ideas  as  well  as  the  facts  themselves. 
Besides,  the  present  state  of  the  world,  the  spirit  of  the 
age,  compels  us  at  once  frankly  to  welcome  this  inevitable 
alliance  of  philosophy  and  history. 

This  indeed  forms  a  striking,  perhaps  the  essential,  char- 
acteristic of  the  present  times.  We  are  now  compelled  to 
consider — science  and  reality — theory  and  practice — right 
and  fact — and  to  make  them  move  side  by  side.  Down  to 
the  present  time  tiic^^^two  powers  have  lived  apart.  The 
world  has  been  accustomedjto  see  theory  and  practice  fol- 
lowing two  different  routes,  unknown  to  each  other,  or  at 
least  never  meeting.  When  doctrines,  when  general  ideas, 
have  wished  to  intermeddle  in  affairs,  to  influence  the 
world,  it  has  only  been  able  to  effect  this  under  the  appear- 
ance and  by  the  aid  of  fanaticism.  Up  to  the  present  time  the 
government  of  human  societies,  the  direction  of  their  af- 
fairs, have  been  divided  between  two  sorts  of  influences ;  on 
one  side  theorists,  men  who  would  rule  all  according  to  ab- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  89 

stract  notions — enthusiasts  ;  on  the  other,  men  ignorant  of 
all  rational  principle, — experimentalists  whose  only  guide 
is  expediency.  This  state  of  things  is  now  over.  The  world 
Avill  no  longer  agitate  for  the  sake  of  some  abstract  prin- 
ciple, some  fanciful  theory — some  Utopian  government, 
which  can  only  exist  in  the  imagination  of  an  enthusiast ; 
nor  wnll  it  put  up  with  practical  abuses  and  oppressions, 
however  favoured  by  prescription  and  expediency,  where 
they  are  opposed  to  the  just  principles  and  the  legitimate 
end  of  government.  To  ensure  respect,  to  obtain  confi- 
dence, governing  powers  must  now  unite  theory  and  prac- 
tice ;  they  must  know  and  acknowledge  the  influence  of 
both.  They  must  regard  as  w^ell  principles  as  facts  ;  must 
respect  both  truth  and  necessity — must  shun,  on  one  hand, 
the  blind  pride  of  the  fanatic  theorist,  and,  on  the  other, 
the  no  less  blind  pride  of  the  libertine  practician.  To 
this  better  state  of  things  we  have  been  brought  by  the 
progress  of  the  human  mind  and  the  progress  of  society. 
On  one  side  the  human  mind  is  so  elevated  and  enlarged 
that  it  is  able  to  view  at  once,  as  a  w^hole,  the  subject  or 
fact  which  comes  under  its  notice,  with  all  the  various  cir- 
cumstances and  principles  which  affect  it — these  it  calcu- 
lates and  combines — it  so  opposes,  mixes,  and  arranges 
them — that  w^hile  the  everlasting  principle  is  placed  boldly 
and  prominently  forward  so  as  not  to  be  mistaken,  care  is 
taken  that  it  shall  not  be  endange^rsd'j-fthat  its  progress 
shall  not  be  retarded  by  a  neqligent  or  rash  estimate  of 
the  circumstances  which  oppose  it.  On  the  other  side, 
social  systems  are  so  improved  as  no  longer  to  shrink 
from  the  light  of  truth  j  so  improved,  that  facts  may  be 
brought  to  the  test  of  science — practice  may  be  placed 
by  the  side  of  theory,  and,  notwithstanding  its  many  im- 
perfections, the  comparison  will  excite  in  us  neither  dis- 
couragement nor  disgust. 

I  shall  give  way,  then,  freely  to  this  natural  tendency — 
to  this  spirit  of  the  age,  by  passing  continually  from  the 


90  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

investigation  of  circumstances  to  the  investigation  of 
ideas — from  an  exposition  of  facts  to  the  consideration  of 
doctrines.  Perhaps  there  is,  in  the  present  disposition  of 
the  public,  another  reason  in  favour  of  this  method.  For 
some  time  past  there  has  existed  among  us  a  decided  taste, 
a  sort  of  predilection  for  facts,  for  looking  at  things  in  a 
practical  point  of  view.  We  have  been  so  much  a  prey 
to  the  despotism  of  abstract  ideas,  of  theories, — thej^^  have, 
in  some  respects,  cost  us  so  dear,  that  we  now  regard 
them  with  a  degree  of  distrust.  We  like  better  to  refer 
to  facts,  to  particular  circumstances,  and  to  judge  and  act 
accordingly.  Let  us  not  complain  of  this.  It  is  a  new 
advance — it  is  a  grand  step  in  knowledge,  and  towards 
the  empire  of  truth ;  provided,  however,  we  do  not  suffer 
ourselves  to  be  carried  too  far  by  this  disposition — pro- 
vided that  we  do  not  forget  that  truth  alone  has  a  right  to 
reign  in  the  world ;  that  facts  have  no  merit  but  in  pro- 
portion as  they  bear  its  stamp,  and  assimilate  themselves 
more  and  more  to  its  image  ;  that  all  true  grandeur  pro- 
ceeds from  mind ;  that  all  expansion  belongs  to  it.  The 
civilization  of  France  possesses  this  peculiar  character  ; 
it  has  never  been  wanting  in  intellectual  grandeur.  It  has 
always  been  rich  in  ideas.  The  power  of  mind  has  been 
great  in  French  society — greater,  perhaps,  than  anywhere 
else.  It  must  not  lose  this  happy  privilege — it  must  not 
fall  into  that  lot>*  cf ,  that  somewhat  material  condition 
which  prevails  in  other  secieties.  Intelligence,  theories, 
must  still  maintain  in  France  the  same  rank  which  they 
have  hitherto  occupied. 

I  shall  not  then  attempt  to  shun  these  general  and  philo- 
sophical questions :  I  will  not  go  out  of  my  way  to  seek 
them,  but  when  circumstances  bring  them  naturally  before 
me,  I  shall  attack  them  without  hesitation  or  embarrass- 
ment. This  will  be  the  case  more  than  once  in  consider- 
ing the  feudal  system  as  connected  with  the  history  of 
European  civilization. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  91 

A  great  proof  that  in  the  tenth  century  the  feudal  sys- 
tem was  necessary,  and  the  only  social  system  practicable, 
is  the  universality  of  its  adoption.  Wherever  barbarism 
ceased,  feudalism  became  general.  This  at  first  struck 
men  as  the  triumph  of  chaos.  All  unity,  all  general  civi- 
lization seemed  gone  ;  society  on  all  sides  seemed  dis- 
membered ;  a  multitude  of  petty,  obscure,  isolated,  inco- 
herent societies  arose.  This  appeared  to  those  who  lived 
and  saw  it,  universal  anarchy — the  dissolution  of  all  things. 
Consult  the  poets  and  historians  of  the  day :  they  all  be- 
lieved that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand.  Yet  this  was, 
in  truth,  a  new  and  real  social  system  v/hich  was  forming  : 
feudal  society  was  so  necessary,  so  inevitable,  so  alto- 
gether the  only  consequence  that  could  flow  from  the  pre- 
vious state  of  things,  that  all  entered  into  it,  all  adopted 
its  form.  Even  elements  the  most  foreign  to  this  system, 
the  church,  the  free  communities,  royalty,  all  were  con- 
strained to  accommodate  themselves  to  it.  Churches  be- 
came sovereigns  and  vassals  ;  cities  became  lords  and 
vassals  5  royalty  was  hidden  under  the  feudal  suzerain. 
All  things  were  given  in  fief,  not  only  estates,  but  rights 
and  privileges :  the  right  to  cut  wood  in  the  forests,  the 
privilege  of  fishing.  The  churches  gave  their  surplice- 
fees  in  fief:  the  revenues  of  baptism — the  fees  for  church- 
ing women.  In  the  same  manner,  too,  that  all  the  great 
elements  of  society  were  drawn  Ayitbi-vi  the  feudal  enclo- 
sure, so  even  the  smallest  por.tions,  the  most  trifling  cir- 
cumstances of  common  life,  became  subject  to  feudalism. 

In  obsierving  the  feudal  system  thus  taking  possession 
of  every  part  of  society,  one  might  be  apt,  at  first,  to 
believe  that  the  essential,  vital  principle  of  feudalism 
everywhere  prevailed.  This  would  be  a  grand  mistake. 
Although  they  put  on  the  feudal  form,  yet  tl^e  institutions, 
the  elements  of  society  which  were  not  analagous  to  the 
feudal  system,  did  not  lose  their  nature,  the  principles  by 


^92  GENERAL    HISTORY   OP 

which  they  were  distinguished.  The  feudal  church,  for 
example,  never  ceased  for  a  moment  to  be  animated  and 
governed  at  bottom  by  the  principles  of  theocracy,  and 
she  never  for  a  moment  relaxed  her  endeavours  to  gain  for 
this  the  predominancy.  Now  she  leagued  with  royalty, 
now  with  the  pope,  and  now  with  the  people,  to  destroy 
this  system,  whose  livery,  for  the  time,  she  was  compelled 
to  put  on.  It  was  the  same  with  royalty  and  the  free 
cities  :  in  one  the  principle  of  monarchy,  in  the  others  the 
principle  cJf  democracy,  continued  fundamentally  to  pre- 
vail :  and,  notwithstanding  their  feudal  appearance,  these 
various  elements  of  European  society  constantly  laboured 
to  deliver  themselves  from  a  form  so  foreign  to  their  na- 
ture, and  to  put  on  that  which  corresponded  with  their 
true  and  vital  principle. 

Though  perfectly  satisfied,  therefore,  of  the  universality 
of  the  feudal /o;ot,  we  must  take  care  not  to  conclude  on 
that  account,  that  the  feudal  principle  was  equally  univer- 
sal. We  must  be  no  less  cautious  not  to  take  our  ideas 
of  feudalism  indifferently  from  every  object  which  bears 
its  physiognomy.  In  order  to  know  and  understand  this 
system  thoroughly — to  unravel  and  judge  of  its  effects 
upon  modern  civilization — we  must  seek  it  where  the 
form  and  spirit  dwell  together  ;  we  must  study  it  in  the 
hierarchy  of  the  laic  possessors  of  fiefs  j  in  the  associa- 
tion of  the  conquerors  of  the  European  territory.  This 
was  the  true  residence  of  the  feudal  system,  and  into  this 
we  will  now  endeavour  to  penetrate. 

I  said  a  few  words,  just  now,  on  the  importance  of  ques- 
tions of  a  moral  nature ;  and  on  the  danger  and  inconve- 
nience of  passing  them  by  without  proper  attention.  A 
matter  of  a  totally  opposite  character  arises  here,  and  de- 
mands our  consideration  ;  it  is  one  which  has  been,  in 
general,  too  much  neglected.  I  allude  to  the  physical 
condition  of  society ;  to  the  changes  which  take  place  in 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  93- 

the  life  and  manners  of  a  people  in  consequence  of  some 
new  event,  some  revolution,  some  new  state  into  which  it 
may  be  thrown.  These  changes  have  not  always  been 
sufficiently  attended  to.  The  modification  which  these 
gre.1t  crisises  in  the  history  of  the  world  have  wrought  in 
the  material  existence  of  mankind — in  the  physical  con- 
ditions of  the  relations  of  men  to  one  another — have  not 
been  investigated  with  so  much  advantage  as  they  might 
have  been.  These  modifications  have  more  influence 
upon  the  general  body  of  society  than  is  imagined.  Every 
one  knows  how  much  has  been  said  upon  the  influence  of 
climate,  and  of  the  importance  which  Montesquieu  at- 
tached to  it.  Now  if  we  regard  only  the  direct  influence 
of  climate  upon  man,  perhaps  it  has  not  been  so  extensive 
as  is  generally  supposed  ;  it  is,  to  say  the  least,  vague 
and  difficult  to  appreciate  ;  but  the  indirect  influence  of 
climate,  that,  for  example,  which  arises  from  the  circum- 
stance that  in  a  hot  country  man  lives  in  the  open  air, 
while  in  a  cold  one  he  lives  shut  up  in  his  habitation — 
that  he  lives  here  upon  one  kind  of  food,  and  there  upon 
another,  are  facts  of  extreme  importance  j  inasmuch  as  a 
simple  change  in  physical  life  may  have  a  powerful  eflect 
upon  the  course  of  civilization.  Every  great  revolution 
leads  to  modifications  of  this  nature  in  the  social  system, 
and  consequently  claims  our  consideration. 

The  establishment  of  the  feudal  system  \^TOught  a 
change  of  this  kind,  which  had  a  powerful  and  striking  in- 
fluence upon  European  civilization.  It  changed  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  population.  Hitherto  the  lords  of  the 
territory,  the  conquering  population,  had  lived  united  in 
masses  more  or  less  numerous,  either  settled  in  cities,  or 
moving  about  the  country  in  bands ;  but  by  the  operation 
of  the  feudal  system  these  men  were  brought  to  live  iso- 
lated, each  in  his  own  dwelling,  at  long  distances  apart. 
You  will  instantly  perceive  the  influence  which  this  change 
must  have  exercised  upon  the  character  and  progress  of 


941  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

civilization.  The  social  preponderance — the  government 
of  society  passed  at  once  from  cities  to  the  country;  the 
baronial  courts  of  the  great  landed  proprietors  took  the 
place  of  the  great  national  assemblies — the  public  body 
was  lost  in  the  thousand  little  sovereignties  into  which 
every  kingdom  was  split.  This  was  the  first  consequence 
— a  consequence  purely  physical,  of  the  triumph  of  the 
feudal  system.  The  more  closely  we  examine  this  cir- 
cumstance, the  more  clearly  and  forcibly  Avill  its  effects 
present  themselves  to  our  notice. 

Let  us  now  examine  this  society  in  itself,  and  trace  out 
its  influence  upon  the  progress  of  civilization.  We  will 
take  feudalism,  in  the  first  place,  in  its  most  simple  state, 
in  its  primitive  fundamental  form.  We  will  visit  a  pos- 
sessor of  a  fief  in  his  lonely  domain ;  we  will  see  the 
course  of  life  which  he  leads  there,  and  the  little  society 
by  which  he  is  surrounded. 

Having  fixed  upon  an  elevated  solitary  spot,  strong  by 
nature,  and  which  he  takes  care  to  render  secure,  the 
lordly  proprietor  of  the  domain  builds  his  castle.  Here 
he  settles  himself,  with  his  wife  and  children,  and  perhaps 
some  few  freemen,  who,  not  having  obtained  fiefs,  not 
having  themselves  become  proprietors,  have  attached 
themselves  to  his  fortunes,  and  continued  to  live  with 
him  and  form  a  part  of  his  household.  These  are  the  in- 
habitants of  the  interior  of  the  castle.  At  the  foot  of  the 
hill  on  which  this  castle  stands  we  find  huddled  together 
a  little  population  of  peasants,  of  serfs,  who  cultivate  the 
lands  of  the  possessor  of  the  fief.  In  the  midst  of  this 
group  of  cottages  religion  soon  planted  a  church  and  a 
priest.  A  priest,  in  these  early  days  of  feudalism,  was 
generally  the  chaplain  of  the  baron,  and  the  curate  of  the 
village  ;  two  offices  which  by  and  by  became  separated, 
and  the  village  had  its  pastor  dwelling  by  the  side  of  his 
church. 
/  Such  is  the  first  form,  the  elementary  principle,  of  feu. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  95 

dal  society.  We  will  now  examine  this  simple  form,  in 
order  to  put  to  it  the  twofold  question  we  have  to  ask  of 
every  fact,  namely,  what  it  has  done  towards  the  progress 
— first,  of  man  himself;  secondly,  of  society  % 

It  is  with  peculiar  propriety  that  we  put  this  twofold 
question  to  the  little  society  I  have  just  described,  and  that 
w^e  should  attach  importance  to  its  answers,  forasmuch  as 
this  society  is  the  type,  the  faithful  picture,  of  feudal  so- 
ciety in  the  aggregate :  the  baron,  the  people  of  his 
domain,  and  the  priest,  compose,  whether  upon  a  larg^  or 
smaller  scale,  the  feudal  system  when  separated  from  mon- 
archy and  cities,  two  distinct  and  foreign  elements. 

The  first  circumstance  Avhich  strikes  us  in  looking  at  this 
little  community,  is  the  great  importance  with  which  the 
possessor  of  the  fief  must  have  been  regarded,  not  only  by 
himself,  but  by  all  around  him.  A  feeling  of  personal  con- 
sequence, of  individual  liberty,  was  a  prevailing  feature  in 
the  character  of  the  barbarians.  The  feeling  here,  how- 
ever, was  of  a  different  nature ;  it  was  no  longer  simply  the 
liberty  of  the  man,  of  the  warrior,  it  was  the  importance 
of  the  proprietor,  of  the  head  of  the  family,  of  the  master. 
His  situation,  with  regard  to  all  around  him,  would  natur- 
ally beget  in  him  an  idea  of  superiority — a  superiority  of  a 
peculiar  nature,  and  very  different  from  that  we  meet  with 
in  other  systems  of  civilization.  Look,  for  example,  at  the 
Roman  patrician,  who  w^as  placed  in  one  of  the  highest 
aristocratic  situations  of  the  an  cient  world.  Like  the  feudal 
lord,  he  was  head  of  the  family,  superior,  master  ;  and  be- 
sides this,  he  was  a  religious  magistrate,  high  priest  over 
his  household.  But  mark  the  difference  :  his  importance 
as  a  religious  magistrate  is  derived  from  without.  It  is  not 
an  importance,  strictly  personal,  attached  to  the  indvidu- 
al :  he  receives  it  from  on  high  ;  he  is  the  delegate  of  di- 
vinity, the  interpreter  of  religious  faith.  The  Roman 
patrician,  moreover,  Avas  the  member  of  a  corporation 


96  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

which  Hved  united  in  the  sanae  place — a  member  of  the 
senate — again,  an  importance  which  he  derived  from  with- 
out from  his  corporation.  The  greatness  of  these  ancient 
aristocrats,  associated  to  a  religious  and  political  charac- 
ter, belonged  to  the  situation,  to  the  corporation  in  general 
rather  than  to  the  individual.  That  of  the  proprietor  of  a 
fief  belonged  to  himself  alone ;  he  held  nothing  of  any 
one  ;  all  his  rights,  all  his  power,  centered  in  himself.  He 
is  no  religious  magistrate  ;  he  forms  no  part  of  a  senate  ; 
it  is  in  the  individual,  in  his  oa\^  person,  that  all  his  im- 
portance resides — all  that  he  is,  he  is  of  himself,  in  his 
own  name  alone.  What  a  vast  influence  must  a  situation 
like  this  have  exercised  over  him  who  enjoyed  it  1  What 
hauo-htiness,  what  pride,  must  it  have  engendered  \  Above 
him,  no  superior  of  whom  he  was  but  the  representative  and 
interpreter  ;  near  him  no  equals  ;  no  general  and  powerful 
law  to  restrain  him — no  exterior  force  to  control  him  ; 
his  will  suffered  no  check  but  from  the  limits  of  his  power, 
and  the  presence  of  danger.  Such  seems  to  me  the  moral 
effect  that  Avould  naturally  be  produced  upon  the  charac- 
ter or  disposition  of  man,  by  the  situation  in  which  he  was 
placed  under  the  feudal  system. 

I  shall  proceed  to  a  second  consequence  equally  im- 
portant, though  too  little  noticed ;  I  mean  the  peculiar 
character  of  the  feudal  family. 

Let  us  consider  for  a  moment  the  various  family  sys- 
tems. Let  us  look,  in  the  first  place,  at  the  patriarchal 
family,  of  which  so  beautiful  a  picture  is  given  us  in  the 
Bible,  and  in  numerous  Oriental  treatises.  We  find  it 
composed  of  a  great  number  of  individuals — it  was  a  tribe. 
The  chief,  the  patriarch,  in  this  case,  lives  in  common 
with  his  children,  with  his  neighbours,  with  the  various 
generations  assembled  around  him — all  his  relations  or 
his  servants.  He  not  only  lives  with  them,  he  has  the 
same  interests,  the  same  occupations,  he  leads  the  same 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  97 

life.  This  was  the  situation  of  Abraham,  and  of  the  patri- 
archs ;  and  is  still  that  of  the  Bedouin  Arabs,  who,  from  gen- 
eration to  generation,  continue  to  follow  the  same  patri- 
archal mode  of  life. 

Let  us  look  next  at  the  clan — another  family  system, 
which  now  scarcely  exists,  except  in  Scotland  and  Ireland, 
but  through  which  probably  the  greater  part  of  the  Euro- 
pean world  has  passed.  This  is  no  longer  the  patriarchal 
family.  A  great  difference  is  found  here  between  the  chief 
and  the  rest  of  the  community  ;  he  leads  not  the  same  life  ; 
the  greater  part  are  employed  in  husbandry,  and  in  supply- 
ing his  wants,  while  the  chief  himself  lives  in  idleness  or 
war.  Still  they  all  descend  from  the  same  stock  ;  they 
all  bear  the  same  name  ;  and  their  common  parentage, 
their  ancient  traditions,  the  same  remembrances,  and  same 
associations,  create  a  moral  tie,  a  sort  of  equality,  between 
all  the  members  of  the  clan. 

These  are  the  two  principal  forms  of  family  society  as 
represented  by  history.  Does  either  of  them,  let  me  ask 
you,  resemble  the  feudal  family  ?  Certainly  not.  At  the 
first  glance,  there  may,  indeed,  seem  some  similarity  be- 
tween the  feudal  family  and  the  clan  ;  but  the  difference 
is  marked  and  striking.  The  population  which  surrounds 
the  possessor  of  the  fief  is  quite  foreign  to  him  j  it  bears 
not  his  name.  They  are  unconnected  by  relationship,  or 
by  any  historical  or  moral  tie.  The  same  holds  with  re- 
spect to  the  patriarchal  family.  The  feudal  proprietor  nei- 
ther leads  the  same  life,  nor  follows  the  same  occupations, 
as  those  who  live  around  him  \  he  is  engaged  in  arms,  or 
lives  in  idleness:  the  others  are  labourers.  The  feudal 
family  is  not  numerous — it  forms  no  tribe — it  is  confined  to 
a  single  family  properly  so  called ;  to  the  wife  and  chil- 
dren, who  live  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  people  in  the 
interior  of  the  castle.  The  peasantry  and  serfs  form  no 
part  of  it  J  they  are  of  another  origin,  and  immeasurably 

9 


98  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

beneath  it.  Five  or  six  individuals,  at  a  vast  height  above 
them,  and  at  the  same  time  foreigners,  make  up  the  feudal 
family.  Is  it  not  evident  that  the  peculiarity  of  its  situa- 
tion must  have  given  to  this  family  a  peculiar  character  1 
Confined,  concentrated,  called  upon  continually  to  defend 
itself ;  mistrusting,  or  at  least  shutting  itself  up  from  the 
rest  of  the  world,  even  from  its  servants,  in-door  life,  do- 
mestic manners  must  naturally  have  acquired  a  great  pre- 
ponderance. We  cannot  keep  out  of  sight,  that  the  grosser 
passions  of  the  chief,  the  constantly  passing  his  time  in 
warfare  or  hunting,  opposed  a  considerable  obstacle  to  the 
formation  of  a  strictly  domestic  society.  But  its  progress, 
though  slow,  was  certain.  The  chief,  however  violent  and 
brutal  his  out-door  exercises,  must  habitually  return  into 
the  bosom  of  his  family.  He  there  finds  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, and  scarcely  any  but  them  ;  they  alone  are  his  con- 
stant companions  ;  they  alone  divide  his  sorrows  and  sof- 
ten his  joys  ;  they  alone  are  interested  in  all  that  concerns 
him.  It  could  not  but  happen  in  such  circumstances,  that 
domestic  life  must  have  acquired  a  vast  influence ;  nor  is 
there  any  lack  of  proofs  that  it  did  so.  Was  it  not  in  the 
bosom  of  the  feudal  family  that  the  importance  of  Avomen, 
that  the  value  of  the  wife  and  mother,  at  last  made  itself 
knoAATi  1  In  none  of  the  ancient  communities,  not  merely 
speaking  of  those  in  which  the  spirit  of  family  never  exist- 
ed, but  in  those  in  which  it  existed  most  poAverfully — say, 
for  example,  in  the  patriarchal  system — in  none  of  these 
did  women  ever  attain  to  any  thing  like  the  place  which 
they  acquired  in  Europe  under  the  feudal  system.  It  is  to 
the  progress,  to  the  preponderance  of  domestic  manners  in 
the  feudal  halls  and  castles,  that  they  owe  this  change,  this 
improvement  in  their  condition.  The  cause  of  this  has  been 
sought  for  in  the  peculiar  manners  of  the  ancient  Germans  ; 
in  a  national  respect  which  they  are  said  to  have  borne,  in 
the  midst  of  their  forests,  to  the  female  sex.     Upon  a  single 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN   EtTROPE.  99 

phrase  of  Tacitus,  Germanic  patriotism  has  founded  a  high 
degree  of  superiority — of  primitive  and  ineffable  purity  of 
manners — in  the  relations  between  the  two  sexes  among 
the  Germans.  Pure  chimeras!  Phrases  like  this  of  Ta- 
citus— sentiments  and  customs  analogous  to  those  of  the 
Germans  of  old,  are  found  in  the  narratives  of  a  host  of 
writers,  who  have  seen,  or  inquired  into,  the  manners  of 
savage  and  barbarous  tribes.  There  is  nothing  primitive, 
nothing  peculiar,  to  a  certain  race  in  this  matter.  It  was 
in  the  effects  of  a  very  decided  social  situation — it  was  in 
the  increase  and  preponderance  of  domestic  manners,  that 
the  importance  of  the  female  sex  in  Europe  had  its  rise,  and 
the  preponderance  of  domestic  manners  in  Europe  very  ear- 
ly became  an  essential  characteristic  in  the  feudal  system. 

A  second  circumstance,  a  fresh  proof  of  the  influence  of 
domestic  life,  forms  a  striking  feature  in  the  picture  of  a 
feudal  family:  I  mean  the  principle  of  inheritance — the 
spirit  of  perpetuity  which  so  strongly  predominates  in  its 
character.  This  spirit  of  inheritance  is  a  natural  off-shoot 
of  the  spirit  of  family,  but  it  nowhere  took  such  deep  root 
as  in  the  feudal  system,  where  it  was  nourished  by  the  na- 
ture of  the  property  with  which  the  family  Avas,  as  it  were, 
incorporated.  The  fief  differed  from  other  possessions  in 
this,  that  it  constantly  required  a  chief,  or  owner,  w^ho 
could  defend  it,  manage  it,  discharge  the  obligations  by 
which  it  was  held,  and  thus  maintain  its  rank  in  the  general 
association  of  the  great  proprietors  of  the  kingdom.  There 
thus  became  a  kind  of  identification  of  the  possessor  of  the 
fief  with  the  fief  itself,  and  with  all  its  future  possessors. 

This  circumstance  powerfully  tended  to  strengthen  and 
knit  together  the  ties  of  family,  already  so  strong  by  the 
nature  of  the  feudal  system  itself. 

Quitting  the  baronial  dwelling,  let  us  now  descend  to  the 
little  population  that  surrounds  it.  Every  thing  here  wears 
a  different  aspect.  The  disposition  of  man  is  so  kindly 
and  good,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  a  number  oi  in- 


100  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

dividuals  to  be  placed  for  any  length  of  time  in  a  social 
situation  without  giving  birth  to  a  certain  moral  tie  be- 
tween them:  sentiments  of  protection,  of  benevolence,  of 
affection,  spring  up  naturally.  Thus  it  happened  in  the 
feudal  system.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  but  that  after  a 
certain  time,  kind  and  friendly  feelings  would  grow  up  be- 
tween the  feudal  lord  and  his  serfs.  This  however  took 
place  in  spite  of  their  relative  situation,  and  by  no  means 
through  its  influence.  Considered  in  itself  this  situation 
was  radically  vicious.  There  was  nothing  morally  com- 
mon between  the  holder  of  the  fief  and  his  serfs.  They 
formed  part  of  his  estate  ;  they  were  his  property  j  and 
under  this  word  property  are  comprised,  not  only  all  the 
rights  which  we  delegate  to  the  public  magistrate  to  ex- 
ercise in  the  name  of  the  state,  but  likewise  all  those 
Avhich  we  possess  over  private  property :  the  right  of 
making  laws,  of  levying  taxes,  of  inflicting  punishment,  as 
well  as  that  of  disposing  of  them — or  selling  them.  There 
existed  not,  in  fact,  between  the  lord  of  the  domain  and 
its  cultivators,  so  far  as  we  consider  the  latter  as  men, 
either  rights,  guarantee,  or  society. 

From  this  I  believe  has  arisen  that  almost  universal, 
invincible  hatred  Avhich  country  people  have  at  all  times 
borne  to  the  feudal  system,  to  every  remnant  of  it — to  its 
very  name.  We  are  not  without  examples  of  men  having 
submitted  to  the  heavy  yoke  of  despotism,  of  their  having 
become  accustomed  to  it,  nay  more,  of  their  having  freely 
accepted  it.  Religious  despotism,  monarchical  despotism, 
have  more  than  once  obtained  the  sanction,  almost  the 
love,  of  the  population  which  they  governed.  But  feudal 
despotism  has  always  been  repulsed,  always  hateful.  It 
tyrannized  over  the  destinies  of  men,  without  ruling  in 
their  hearts.  Perhaps  this  may  be  partly  accounted  for  by 
the  fact,  that,  in  religious  and  monarchical  despotism, 
authority  is  always  exercised  by  virtue  of  some  belief  or 
opinion  common  to  both  ruler   and  subjects  3  he  is  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  101 

representative,  the  minister,  of  another  power  superior  to 
all  human  powers.  He  speaks  or  acts  in  the  name  of  Di- 
vinity or  of  a  common  feeling,  and  not  in  the  name  of  man 
himself,  of  man  alone.  Feudal  despotism  differed  from 
this,  it  was  the  authority  of  man  over  man  5  the  domina- 
tion of  the  personal,  capricious  will  of  an  individual. 
This  perhaps  is  the  only  tyranny  to  which  man,  much  to 
his  honour,  never  will  submit.  Wherever  in  a  ruler,  or 
master,  he  sees  but  the  individual  man, — the  moment  that 
the  authority  which  presses  upon  him  is  no  more  than  an 
individual,  a  human  will,  one  like  his  own,  he  feels  morti- 
fied and  indignant,  and  struggles  against  the  yoke  which 
he  is  compelled  to  bear.  Such  was  the  true,  the  distinc- 
tive character  of  the  feudal  power,  and  such  was  the  ori- 
gin of  the  hatred  which  it  has  never  ceased  to  inspire. 

The  religious  element  which  was  associated  with  the 
feudal  power  was  but  little  calculated  to  alleviate  its  yoke. 
I  do  not  see  how  the  influence  of  the  priest  could  be  very 
great  in  the  society  which  I  have  just  described,  or  that  he 
could  have  much  success  in  legitimizing  the  connection 
between  the  enslaved  people  and  the  lordly  proprietor. 
The  church  has  exercised  a  very  powerful  influence  in  the 
civilization  of  Europe,  but  then  it  has  been  by  proceeding 
in  a  general  manner — by  changing  the  general  disposi- 
tions of  mankind.  When  Ave  enter  intimately  into  the  lit- 
tle feudal  society,  properly  so  called,  we  find  the  influ- 
ence of  the  priest  between  the  baron  and  his  serfs  to  have 
been  very  slight.  It  most  frequently  happened  that  he  was 
as  rude  and  nearly  as  much  under  control  as  the  serf  him- 
self ;  and  therefore  not  very  well  fitted,  either  by  his  posi- 
tion or  talents,  to  enter  into  a  contest  with  the  lordly 
baron.  We  must,  to  be  sure,  naturally  suppose,  that  called 
upon  as  he  was  by  his  office  to  administer  and  to  keep 
alive  among  these  poor  people  the  great  moral  truths  of 
Christianity,  he  became  endeared  and  useful  to  them  in 

9* 


102  GE^^ERAL    HISTORY    OF 

this  respect ;  he  consoled  and  instructed  them  ;  but  I  be- 
lieve he  had  but  little  power  to  soften  their  hard  con- 
dition. 

Having  examined  the  feudal  sj^stem  in  its  rudest,  its 
simplest  form;  having  placed  before  you  the  principal 
consequences  which  flowed  from  it,  as  respects  the  pos- 
sessor of  the  fief  himself,  as  respects  his  family,  and  as 
respects  the  population  gathered  about  him ,  let  us  now 
quit  this  narrow  precinct.  The  population  of  the  fief  was 
not  the  only  one  in  the  land :  there  were  other  societies 
mor  or  less  like  his  own  of  which  he  was  a  member — 
with  which  he  was  connected.  What,  then,  let  us  ask,  was 
the  influence  which  this  general  society  to  which  he  be- 
longed might  be  expected  to  exercise  upon  civilization  1 

One  short  observation  before  we  reply  :  both  the  pos- 
sessor of  the  fief  and  the  priest,  it  is  true,  formed  part  of  a 
general  society  ;  in  the  distance  they  had  numerous  and 
frequent  connections;  not  so  the  cultivators — the  serfs. 
Every  time  that,  in  speaking  of  the  population  of  the 
country  at  this  period,  we  make  use  of  some  general  term, 
which  seems  to  convey  the  idea  of  one  single  and  same 
society — such  for  example  as  the  word  people — we  speak 
without  truth.  For  this  population  there  was  no  general 
society — its  existence  was  purely  local.  Beyond  the  es- 
tate in  which  they  dwelt,  the  serfs  had  no  relations  what- 
ever,— no  connection  either  with  persons,  things,  or  gov- 
ernment. For  them  there  existed  no  common  destiny,  no 
common  country — they  formed  not  a  nation.  When  we 
speak  of  the  feudal  association  as  a  whole,  it  is  only  the 
great  proprietors  that  are  alluded  to. 

Let  us  now  see  what  the  relations  of  the  little  feudal 

society  were  with  the  general   society  to  which  it  held, 

and  what  consequences  these  relations  may  be  expected 

to  have  led  to  in  the  progress  of  civilization. 

We  all  know  what  the  ties  were  which  bound  together  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  103 

possessors  of  fiefs  ;  what  conditions  were  attached  to  their 
possessions  ;  what  were  the  ohligations  of  service  on  one 
part,  and  of  protection  on  the  other.  I  shall  not  enter  into 
a  detail  of  these  obligations,  it  is  enough  for  the  present 
purpose  that  you  have  a  general  idea  of  them.  This  sys- 
tem, however,  seemed  naturally  to  pour  into  the  mind  of 
every  possessor  of  a  fief  a  certain  number  of  ideas  and 
moral  sentiments — ideas  of  duty,  sentiments  of  affection. 
That  the  principles  of  fidelity,  devotedness,  loyalty,  be- 
came developed,  and  maintained  by  the  relations  in  which 
the  possessors  of  fiefs  stood  towards  one  another,  is  evi- 
dent.    The  fact  speaks  for  itself. 

The  attempt  was  made  to  change  these  obligations,  these 
duties,  these  sentiments,  and  so  on,  into  laws  and  institu- 
tions. It  is  well  known  that  feudalism  wished  legally  to 
settle  what  services  the  possessor  of  a  fief  owed  to  his 
sovereign  ;  what  services  he  had  a  right  to  expect  from 
him  in  return ;  in  what  cases  the  vassal  might  be  called 
upon  to  furnish  military  or  pecuniary  aid  to  his  lord  j  in 
what  way  the  lord  might  obtain  the  services  of  his  vassals, 
in  those  afTairs,  in  which  they  were  not  bound  to  yield  them 
by  the  mere  possession  of  their  fiefs.  The  attempt  was 
made  to  place  all  these  rights  under  the  protection  of  insti- 
tutions founded  to  ensure  their  respect.  Thus  the  baronial 
jurisdictions  were  erected  to  administer  justice  between 
the  possessors  of  fiefs,  upon  complaints  duly  laid  before 
their  common  suzerain.  Thus  every  baron  of  any  consid- 
eration collected  his  Aassals  in  parliament,  to  debate  in 
common  the  affairs  which  required  their  consent  or  con- 
currence. There  was,  in  short,  a  combination  of  political, 
judicial,  and  military  means,  w^hich  show  the  attempt  to 
organize  the  feudal  system— -to  convert  the  relations  be- 
tween the  possessors  of  fiefs  into  laws  and  institutions. 

But  these  laws,  these  institutions,  had  no  stability— no 
guarantee. 


104  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

If  it  should  be  asked  what  is  a  political  guarantee,  I  am 
compelled  to  look  back  to  its  fundamental  character,  and 
to  state  that  this  is  the  constant  existence,  in  the  bosom 
of  society,  of  a  will,  of  an  aiJthority  disposed  and  in  a 
condition  to  impose  a  law  upon  the  wills  and  poAvers  of 
private  individuals — to  enforce  their  obedience  to  the 
common  rule,  to  make  them  respect  the  general  law. 

There  are  only  two  systems  of  political  guarantees 
possible  :  there  must  be  either  a  will,  a  particular  power, 
so  superior  to  the  others  that  none  of  them  can  resist  it, 
but  are  obliged  to  yield  to  its  authority  whenever  it  is 
interposed  ;  or,  on  the  other,  a  public  will,  the  result  of 
the  concurrence — of  the  development  of  the  wills  of  indi- 
viduals, and  which  likewise  is  in  a  condition,  when  once 
it  has  expressed  itself,  to  make  itself  obeyed  and  respected 
by  all. 

These  are  the  only  two  systems  of  political  guarantees 
possible  ;  the  despotism  of  one  alone,  or  of  a  body  ;  or 
free  government.  If  we  examine  the  various  systems,  we 
shall  find  that  they  may  all  be  brought  under  one  of  these 
two. 

Well,  neither  of  these  existed,  or  could  exist,  under  the 
feudal  system. 

Without  doubt  the  possessors  of  fiefs  were  not  all  equal 
among  themselves.  There  were  some  much  more  power- 
ful than  others  ;  and  very  many  sufficiently  powerful  to  op- 
press the  weaker.  But  there  was  none,  from  the  king,  the 
first  of  proprietors,  downward,  who  was  in  a  condition  to 
impose  law  upon  all  the  others  ;  in  a  condition  to  make 
himself  obeyed.  Call  to  mind  that  none  of  the  permanent 
means  of  power  and  influence  at  this  time  existed — no 
standing  army — no  regular  taxes — no  fixed  tribunals.  The 
social  authorities — the  institutions  had,  in  a  manner,  to  be 
new  formed  every  time  they  were  wanted.  A  tribunal  had 
to  be  formed  for  every  trial — an  army  to  be   formed  for 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  105 

every  war — a  revenue  to  be  formed  every  time  that  mo- 
ney was  needed.  All  was  occasional — accidental — spe- 
cial ;  there  was  no  central,  permanent,  independent  means 
of  government.  It  is  evident,  that  in  such  a  system  no 
individual  had  the  power  to  enforce  his  will  upon  others: 
to  compel  all  to  respect  and  obey  the  general  law. 

On  the  other  hand,  resistance  was  easy,  in  proportion 
as  repression  was  difficult.  Shut  up  in  his  (Castle,  with 
but  a  small  number  of  enemies  to  cope  with,  and  aware 
that  other  vassals  in  a  like  situation,  were  ready  to  join 
and  assist  him,  the  possessor  of  a  fief  found  but  little 
difficulty  in  defending  himself. 

It  must  then,  I  think,  be  confessed,  that  the  first  system 
of  political  guarantees — namely,  that  which  would  make 
all  responsible  to  the  strongest — has  been  shown  to  be 
impossible  under  the  feudal  system. 

The  other  system — that  of  free  government,  of  a  pub- 
lic power,  a  public  authority — was  just  as  impracticable. 
The  reason  is  simple  enough.  When  we  speak  now  of  a 
public  power,  of  what  we  call  the  rights  of  sovereignty 
— that  is,  the  right  of  making  laws,  of  imposing  taxes,  of 
inflicting  punishment,  we  know,  w^e  bear  in  mind,  that 
these  rights  belong  to  nobody  ;  that  no  one  has,  on  his 
OA\Ti  account,  the  right  to  punish  others,  or  to  impose  any 
burden  or  law  upon  them.  These  are  rights  which  belong 
only  to  the  great  body  of  society,  which  are  exercised 
only  in  its  name  j  they  are  emanations  from  the  people, 
and  held  in  trust  for  their  benefit.  Thus  it  happens  that 
when  an  individual  is  brought  before  an  authority  invested 
with  these  rights,  the  sentiment  that  predominates  in  his 
mind,  though  perhaps  he  himself  may  be  unconscious  of 
it,  is,  that  he  is  in  the  presence  of  a  public  legitimate  au- 
thority, invested  with  the  power  to  command  him,  an 
authority  which,  beforehand,  he  has  tacitly  acknowledged. 
This  was  by  no  means  the  case  under  the  feudal  system. 


106  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

The  possessor  of  a  fief,  within  his  domain,  was  invested 
with  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  sovereignty ;  he  in- 
herited them  with  the  territory  j  they  were  a  matter  of 
private  property.  What  are  now  called  public  rights  were 
then  private  rights ;  what  are  now  called  public  authori- 
ties were  then  private  authorities.  When  the  possessor 
of  a  fief,  after  having  exercised  sovereign  power  in  his 
own  name,  as  proprietor  over  all  the  population  which 
lived  around  him,  attended  an  assembly,  attended  a  par- 
liament held  by  his  sovereign — a  parliament  not  in  gene- 
ral very  numerous,  and  composed  of  men  of  the  same 
grade,  or  nearly  so,  as  himself — he  did  not  carry  with  him 
any  notion  of  a  public  authority.  This  idea  was  in  direct 
contradiction  to  all  about  him — to  all  his  notions,  to  all 
that  he  had  done  within  his  OAvn  domains.  All  he  saw  in 
these  assemblies  were  men  invested  with  the  same  rights 
as  himself,  in  the  same  situation  as  himself,  acting  as  he 
had  done  by  virtue  of  their  own  personal  title.  Nothing 
led  or  compelled  him  to  see  or  acknowledge  in  the  very 
highest  portion  of  the  government,  or  in  the  institutions 
which  we  call  public,  that  character  of  superiority  or 
generality  which  seems  to  us  bound  up  with  the  notion  of 
political  power.  Hence,  if  he  was  dissatisfied  with  its 
decision,  he  refused  to  concur  in  it,  and  perhaps  called  in 
force  to  resist  it. 

Force,  indeed,  was  the  true  and  usual  guarantee  of 
right  under  the  feudal  system,  if  force  can  be  called  a 
guarantee.  Every  law  continually  had  recourse  to  force 
to  make  itself  respected  or  acknowledged.  No  institution 
succeeded  under  it.  This  was  so  perfectly  felt  that  insti- 
tutions were  scarcely  ever  applied  to.  If  the  agency  of 
the  baronial  courts  or  parliaments  of  vassals  had  been  of 
any  importance,  we  should  find  them  more  generally  em- 
ployed than,  from  history,  they  appear  to  have  been. 
Their  rarity  proves  their  insignificance. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN   EUROPE.  107 

This  is  not  astonishing.  There  is  another  reason  for 
it  more  profound  and  decisive  than  any  I  have  yet  ad- 
duced. 

.  Of  all  the  systems  of  government  and  political  guaran- 
tee, it  may  be  asserted,  without  fear  of  contradiction,  that 
the  most  difficult  to  establish  and  render  effectual,  is  the 
federative  system  ;  a  system  which  consists  in  leaving  in 
each  place  or  province,  in  every  separate  society,  all  that 
portion  of  government  which  can  abide  there,  and  in  tak- 
ing from  it,  only  so  much  of  it  as  is  indispensable  to  a 
general  society,  in  order  to  carry  it  to  the  centre  of  this 
larger  society,  and  there  to  embody  it  under  the  form  of 
a  central  government.  This  federative  system,  theoreti- 
cally the  most  simple,  is  found  in  practice  the  most  com- 
plex ;  for  in  order  to  reconcile  the  degree  of  indepen- 
dence, of  local  liberty,  which  is  permitted  to  remain,  with 
the  degree  of  general  order,  of  general  submission,  which 
in  certain  cases  it  supposes  and  exacts,  evidently  requires 
a  very  advanced  state  of  civilization — requires,  indeed, 
that  the  will  of  man,  that  individual  liberty,  should  concur 
in  the  establishment  and  maintenance  of  the  system  much 
more  than  in  any  other,  because  it  possesses  less  than 
any  other  the  means  of  coercion. 

The  federative  system,  then,  is  one  which  evidently  re- 
quires the  greatest  maturity  of  reason,  of  morality,  of 
civilization  in  the  society  to  which  it  is  applied.  Yet  we 
find  that  this  was  the  kind  of  government  which  the  feu- 
dal system  attempted  to  establish:  for  feudalism,  as  a 
whole,  was  truly  a  confederation.  It  rested  upon  the 
same  principles,  for  example,  as  those  on  which  is  based, 
in  the  present  day,  the  federative  system  of  the  United 
States  of  America.  It  affected  to  leave  in  the  hands  of 
each  great  proprietor  all  that  portion  of  the  government, 
of  sovereignty,  which  could  be  exercised  there,  and  to 
carry  to  the  suzerain,  or  to  the  general  assembly  of  ba- 


108  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

rons,  the  least  possible  portion  of  power,  and  only  this  in 
cases  of  absolute  necessity.  You  will  easily  conceive  the 
impossibility  of  establishing  a  system  like  this  in  a  world 
of  ignorance,  of  brute  passions,  or,  in  a  word,  where  the 
moral  condition  of  man  was  so  imperfect  as  under  the 
feudal  system.  The  very  nature  of  such  a  government 
was  in  opposition  to  the  notions,  the  habits  and  manners 
of  the  very  men  to  whom  it  was  to  be  applied.  How  then 
can  we  be  astonished  at  the  bad  success  of  this  attempt 
at  organization  1 

We  have  now  considered  the  feudal  system,  first,  in  its 
most  simple  element,  in  its  fundamental  principle ;  and 
then  in  its  collective  form,  as  a  whole  :  we  have  examined 
it  under  these  two  points  of  view,  in  order  to  see  what  it 
did,  and  what  it  might  have  been  expected  to  do,  what  has 
been  its  influence  on  the  progress  of  civilization.  These 
investigations,  I  think,  bring  us  to  this  twofold  conclu- 
sion : — 

1st.  Feudalism  seems  to  have  exercised  a  great,  and 
upon  the  whole,  a  salutary  influence  upon  the  intellectual 
development  of  individuals.  It  gave  birth  to  elevated 
ideas  and  feelings  in  the  mind,  to  moral  wants,  to  grand 
developments  of  character  and  passion. 

2dly.  With  regard  to  society,  it  was  incapable  of  estab- 
lishing either  legal  order  or  political  guarantee.  In  the 
w^retched  state  to  which  society  had  been  reduced  by  bar- 
barism, in  which  it  was  incapable  of  a  more  regular  or 
enlarged  form,  the  feudal  system  seemed  indispensable  as  a 
step  towards  re-association  ;  still  this  system,  in  itself  rad- 
ically vicious,  could  neither  regulate  nor  enlarge  society. 
The  only  political  right  which  the  feudal  system  was  ca- 
pable of  exercising  in  European  society,  was  the  right  of 
resistance :  I  will  not  say  legal  resistance,  for  there  can 
be  no  question  of  legal  resistance  in  a  society  so  little  ad- 
vanced.    The  progress  of  society  consists  pre-eminently 


CIVILIZATION    IN   MODERN   EUROPE.  109 

in  substituting,  on  one  hand,  public  authority  for  private 
will ;  and,  on  the  other,  legal  resistance  for  individual  re- 
sistance. This  is  the  great  end,  the  chief  perfection,  of 
social  order  ;  a  large  field  is  left  to  personal  liberty,  but 
when  personal  liberty  offends,  when  it  becomes  necessary 
to  call  it  to  account,  our  only  appeal  is  to  public  reason ; 
public  reason  is  placed  in  the  judge's  chair  to  pass  sen- 
tence on  the  charge  which  is  preferred  against  individual 
liberty.  Such  is  the  system  of  legal  order  and  of  legal  re- 
sistance. You  will  easily  perceive,  that  there  was  nothing 
bearing  any  resemblance  to  this  in  the  feudal  system.  The 
right  of  resistance,  which  was  maintained  and  practised 
in  this  system,  was  the  right  of  personal  resistance ;  a 
terrible  and  anti-social  right,  inasmuch  as  its  only  appeal 
is  to  brute  force — to  war — which  is  the  destruction  of  so- 
ciety itself ;  a  right,  hov\-ever,  Avhich  ought  never  to  be 
entirely  erased  from  the  mind  of  man,  because  by  its 
abolition  he  puts  on  the  fetters  of  servitude.  The  notion 
of  the  right  of  resistance  had  been  banished  from  the 
Roman  communitj',  by  the  general  disgrace  and  infamy 
into  which  it  had  fallen,  and  it  could  not  be  regenerated 
from  its  ruins.  It  could  not,  in  my  opinion,  have  sprung 
more  naturally  from  the  principles  of  Christian  society. 
It  is  to  the  feudal  system  that  we  are  indebted  for  its 
re-introduction  among  us.  The  glory  of  civilization  is 
to  render  this  principle  for  ever  inactive  and  useless  ;  the 
glory  of  the  feudal  system  is  its  having  constantly  pro- 
fessed and  defended  it. 

Such,  if  I  am  not  widely  mistaken,  is  the  result  of  our 
investigation  of  the  feudal  community,  considered  in  it- 
self, in  its  general  principles,  and  independently  of  its 
historical  progress.  If  we  now  turn  to  facts,  to  history, 
we  shall  find  it  to  have  fallen  out,  just  as  might  have  been 
expected,  that  the  feudal  system  accomplished  its  task  j 
that  its  destiny  has  been  conformable  to  its  nature. 
Events  may  be  adduced  in  proof  of  all  the  conjectures,  of 

10 


110  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

all  the  inductions,  which  I  have  drawn  from  the  nature 
and  essential  character  of  this  system.    - 

Take  a  glance,  for  example,  at  the  general  history  of 
feudalism,  from  the  tenth  to  the  thirteenth  centuries,  and 
say,  is  it  not  impossible  to  deny  that  it  exercised  a  vast 
and  salutary  influence  upon  the  progress  of  individual 
man — upon  the  development  of  his  sentiments,  his  dispo- 
sition, and  his  ideas  1  Where  can  we  open  the  history  of 
this  period,  without  discovering  a  crowd  of  noble  senti- 
ments, of  splendid  achievements,  of  beautiful  develop- 
ments of  humanity,  evidently  generated  in  the  bosom  of 
feudal  life.  Chivalry,  which  in  reality  bears  scarcely  the 
least  resemblance  to  feudalism,  was  nevertheless  its  off- 
spring. It  was  feudalism  which  gave  birth  to  that  roman- 
tic thirst  and  fondness  for  all  that  is  noble,  generous,  and 
faithful — for  that  sentiment  of  honour,  which  still  raises 
its  voice  in  favour  of  the  system  by  which  it  was  nursed. 

But  turn  to  another  side.  Here  we  see  that  the  first 
sparks  of  European  imagination,  that  the  first  attempts  of 
poetry,  of  literature,  that  the  first  intellectual  gratifica- 
tions which  Europe  tasted  in  emerging  from  barbarism, 
sprung  up  under  the  protection,  under  the  wings,  of  feu- 
dalism. It  was  in  the  baronial  hall  that  they  were  born, 
and  cherished,  and  protected.  It  is  to  the  feudal  times 
that  we  trace  back  the  earliest  literary  monuments  of 
England,  France,  and  Germany,  the  earliest  intellectual 
enjoyments  of  modern  Europe. 

As  a  set-off  to  this,  if  we  question  history  respecting 
the  influence  of  feudalism,  upon  the  social  system,  its 
reply  is,  though  still  in  accordance  with  our  conjectures, 
that  the  feudal  system  has  everywhere  opposed  not  only 
the  establishment  of  general  order,  but  at  the  same  time 
the  extension  of  general  liberty.  Under  whatever  point 
of  view  we  consider  the  progress  of  society,  the  feudal  sys- 
tem always  appears  as  an  obstacle  in  its  way.  Hence, 
from  the  earliest  existence  of  feudalism,  the  two  powers 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  HI 

which  have  been  the  prime  movers  in  the  progress  of 
order  and  liberty — monarchical  power  on  the  one  hand, 
and  popular  power  on  the  other — that  is  to  say,  the  king 
and  the  people — have  both  attacked  it,  and  struggled 
against  it  continually.  What  few  attempts  were  made  at 
different  periods  to  regulate  it,  to  impart  to  it  somewhat 
of  a  legal,  a  general  character — as  was  done  in  England, 
by  William  the  Conqueror  and  his  sons ;  in  France,  by 
St.  Louis  ;  and  by  several  of  the  German  Emperors — all 
these  endeavours,  all  these  attempts  failed.  The  very 
nature  itself  of  feudality  is  opposed  to  order  and  legalitj^. 
In  the  last  century,  some  writers  of  talent  attempted  to 
dress  out  feudalism  as  a  social  system  ;  they  endeavoured 
to  make  it  appear  a  legitimate,  well-ordered,  progressive 
state  of  society,  and  represented  it  as  a  golden  age.  Ask 
them,  however,  where  it  existed :  summon  them  to  assign 
it  a  locality,  and  a  time,  and  they  will  be  found  wanting. 
It  is  a  Utopia  without  date,  a  drama,  for  which  we  find,  in 
the  past,  neither  theatre  nor  actors.  The  cause  of  this 
error  is  noways  difficult  to  discover ;  and  it  accounts  as 
well  for  the  error  of  the  opposite  class,  who  cannot  pro- 
nounce the  name  of  feudalism  without  coupling  to  it  an 
absolute  anathema.  Both  these  parties  have  looked  at  it, 
as  the  two  knights  did  at  the  statue  of  Janus,  only  on  one 
side.  They  have  not  considered  the  two  different  points 
of  view  from  which  feudalism  may  be  surveyed.  They 
do  not  distinguish,  on  one  hand,  its  influence  upon  the 
progress  of  the  individual  man,  upon  his  feelings,  his 
faculties,  his  disposition  and  passions  ;  nor,  on  the  other, 
its  influence  upon  the  social  condition.  One  party  could 
not  imagine  that  a  social  system  in  which  were  to  be 
found  so  many  noble  sentiments,  so  many  virtues,  in  which 
were  seen  sprouting  forth  the  earliest  buds  of  literature 
and  science  ;  in  w^hich  manners  became  not  only  more 
refined,  but  attained  a  certain  elevation  and  grandeur  ;  in 
such  a  system  they  could  not  imagine  that  the  evil  was 


112  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

SO  great  or  so  fatal  as  it  was  made  to  appear.  The  other 
party,  seeing  but  the  misery  which  feudalism  inflicted  on 
the  great  body  of  the  people — the  obstacles  which  it  op- 
posed to  the  establishment  of  order  and  liberty — would 
not  believe  that  it  could  produce  noble  characters,  great 
virtues,  or  any  improvement  whatsoever.  Both  these 
parties  have  misunderstood  the  twofold  principle  of  civil- 
ization ;  they  have  not  been  aware  that  it  consists  of  two 
movements,  one  of  which  for  a  time  may  advance  inde- 
pendently of  the  other;  although  after  a  lapse  of  centu- 
ries, and  perhaps  a  long  series  of  events,  they  must  at 
last  reciprocally  recall  and  bring  forward  each  other. 

To  conclude,  feudalism,  in  its  character  and  influence, 
was  just  what  its  nature  would  lead  us  to  expect.  Indi- 
vidualism, the  energy  of  personal  existence,  was  the  pre- 
vailing principle  among  the  vanquishers  of  the  Roman 
world  ;  and  the  development  of  the  individual  man,  of  his 
mind,  and  faculties,  might  above  all  be  expected  to  result 
from  the  social  system,  founded  by  them  and  for  them. 
That  which  man  himself  carries  into  a  social  system,  his 
intellectual  moral  disposition  at  the  time  he  enters  it,  has 
a  powerful  influence  upon  the  situation  in  which  he  esta- 
blishes himself — upon  all  around  him.  This  situation  in 
its  turn  reacts  upon  his  dispositions,  strengthens  and  im- 
proves them.  The  individual  prevailed  in  German  socie- 
ty ;  and  the  influence  of  the  feudal  system,  the  offspring 
of  German  society,  displayed  itself  in  the  improvement 
and  advance  of  the  individual.  We  shall  find  the  same 
fact  to  recur  in  the  other  elements  of  our  civilization : 
they  all  hold  faithful  to  their  original  principle  ;  they  have 
advanced  and  pushed  the  world  in  that  same  road  by 
which  they  first  entered.  The  subject  of  the  next  lecture 
— the  history  of  the  Church,  and  its  influence  upon  Euro- 
pean civilization,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century — 
will  furnish  us  with  a  new  and  striking  example  of  this  fact. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN   EUROPE.  113 


LE  CTURE    V 


THE       CHURCH 


Having  investigated  the  nature  and  influence  of  the 
feudal  system,  I  shall  take  the  Christian  Church,  from  the 
fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  as  the  subject  of  the  present 
lecture.  I  say  the  Christian  Churchy  because,  as  I  have 
observed  once  before,  it  is  not  about  Christianity  itself, 
Christianity  as  a  religious  system,  that  I  shall  occupy 
your  attention,  but  the  Church  as  an  ecclesiastical  society 
— the  Christian  hierarchy. 

This  society  was  almost  completely  organized  before 
the  close  of  the  fifth  century.  Not  that  it  has  not  under- 
gone many  and  important  changes  since  that  period,  but 
from  this  time  the  Church,  considered  as  a  corporation,  as 
the  government  of  the  Christian  world,  may  be  said  to 
have  attained  a  complete  and  independent  existence. 

A  single  glance  will  be  sufficient  to  convince  us,  that 
there  existed,  in  the  fifth  century,  an  immense  difference 
between  the  state  of  the  Church  and  that  of  the  other  ele- 
ments of  European  civilization.  You  will  remember  that 
I  have  pointed  out,  as  primary  elements  of  our  civilization, 
the  municipal  system,  the  feudal  system,  monarchy,  and 
the  Church.  The  municipal  system,  in  the  fifth  century, 
was  no  more  than  a  fragment  of  the  Roman  empire,  a 
shadow  without  life,  or  definite  form.  The  feudal  system 
was  still  a  chaos.  Monarchy  existed  only  in  name.  All 
the  civil  elements  of  modern  society  were  either  in  their 
decline  or  infancy.  The  Church  alone  possessed  youth 
and  vigour ;  she  alone  possessed  at  the  same  ti^ie  a  defi- 

10* 


Il4f  GE^ERAL    HISTORY    OF 

nite  form,  with  activity  and  strength  ;  she  alone  possessed 
at  once  movement  and  order,  energy  and  system,  that  is 
to  say,  the  two  greatest  means  of  influence.  Is  it  not,  let 
me  ask  you,  by  mental  vigour,  by  intellectual  movement 
on  one  side,  and  by  order  and  discipline  on  the  other,,  that 
all  institutions  acquire  their  power  and  influence  over  so- 
ciety 1  The  Church,  moreover,  awakened  attention  to,  and 
ao-itated  all  the  great  questions  which  interest  man ;  she 
busied  herself  with  all  the  great  problems  of  his  nature, 
with  all  he  had  to  hope  or  fear  for  futurity.  Hence  her 
influence  upon  modern  civilization  has  been  so  powerful — 
more  povrerful,  perhaps,  than  its  most  violent  adversaries, 
or  its  most  zealous  defenders,  have  supposed.  They, 
eager  to  advance  or  abuse  her,  have  only  regarded  the 
Church  in  a  contentious  point  of  view ;  and  with  that  con- 
tracted spirit  which  controversy  engenders,  how  could 
they  do  her  justice,  or  grasp  the  full  scope  of  her  sway  % 

To  us,  the  Church,  in  the  fifth  century,  appears  as  an 
organized  and  independent  society,  interposed  between  the 
masters  of  the  world,  the  sovereigns,  the  possessors  of 
temporal  power,  and  the  people,  serving  as  a  connecting 
link  between  them,  and  exercising  its  influence  over  all. 

To  know  and  completely  understand  its  agency,  then, 
we  must  consider  it  from  three  different  points  of  view: 
we  must  consider  it  first  in  itself — we  must  see  what  it 
really  was,  what  were  its  internal  constitution,  what  the 
principles  which  there  bore  sway,  what  its  nature.  We 
must  next  consider  it  in  its  relations  with  temporal  rulers 
— ^kings,  lords,  and  others  ;  and,  finally,  in  its  relations 
with  the  people.  And  when  by  this  threefold  investiga- 
tion we  have  formed  a  complete  picture  of  the  Church,  of 
its  principles,  its  situation,  and  the  influence  which  it 
exercised,  ^xe  will  verify  this  picture  by  history ;  we  will 
see  whether  facts,  whether  what  we  properly  call  events, 
from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  agree  with  the  con- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  115 

elusions  which  our  threefold  examination  of  the  Church, 
of  its  own  nature,  of  its  relations  with  the  masters  of  the 
world,  and  with  the  people,  had  previously  led  us  to  come 
to  respecting  it. 

Let  us  first  consider  the  Church  in  itself,  its  internal 
condition,  its  own  nature. 

The  first,  and  perhaps  the  most  important  fact  that  de- 
mands our  attention  here,  is  its  existence ;  the  existence 
of  a  government  of  religion,  of  a  priesthood,  of  an  eccle- 
siastical corporation. 

In  the  opinion  of  many  enlightened  persons  the  very 
notion  of  a  religious  corporation,  of  a  priesthood,  of  a 
government  of  religion,  is  absurd.  They  believe  that  a 
religion,  whose  object  is  the  establishment  of  a  clerical 
body,  of  a  priesthood  legally  constituted,  in  short,  of  a 
government  of  religion,  must  exercise,  upon  the  whole,  an 
influence  more  dangerous  than  useful.  In  their  opinion 
religion  is  a  matter  purely  individual  betwixt  man  and  God ; 
and  that  whenever  religion  loses  this  character,  when- 
ever an  exterior  authority  interferes  between  the  indivi- 
dual and  the  object  of  his  religious  belief,  that  is,  between 
him  and  God,  religion  is  corrupted,  and  society  in  danger. 

It  will  not  do  to  pass  by  this  question  without  taking  a 
deeper  view  of  it.  In  order  to  know  what  has  been  the 
influence  of  the  Christian  Church  we  must  know  what 
ought  to  be,  from  the  nature  of  the  institution  itself,  the 
influence  of  a  Church,  the  influence  of  a  priesthood.  To 
judge  of  this  influence  we  must  inquire  more  especially 
whether  religion  is,  in  fact,  purely  individual ;  whether  it 
excites  and  gives  birth  to  nothing  beyond  this  intimate 
relation  between  each  individual  and  God;  or  whether  it 
does  not,  in  fact,  necessarily  become  a  source  of  neAV  rela- 
tions between  man  and  man,  and  so  necessarily  lead  to 
the  formation  of  a  religious  society,  and  from  that  to  a 
government  of  this  society. 


116  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

If  we  reduce  religion  to  what  is  properly  called  reli- 
gious feeling — to  that  feeling  which,  though  very  real,  is 
somewhat  vague,  somewhat  uncertain  in  its  object,  and 
which  we  can  scarcely  characterize  but  by  naming  it — to 
that  feeling  which  addresses  itself  at  one  time  to  exterior 
nature,  at  another  to  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  soul  j  to- 
day to  the  imagination,  to-morrow  to  the  mysteries  of  the 
future  ;  which  wanders  everywhere,  and  settles  nowhere  ; 
which,  in  a  word,  exhausts  both  the  world  of  matter  and 
of  fancy  in  search  of  a  resting-place,  and  yet  finds  none — 
if  we  reduce  religion  to  this  feeling  ;  then,  it  would  seem, 
it  may  remain  purely  individual.  Such  a  feeling  may  give 
rise  to  a  passing  association  ;  it  may,  it  will  indeed,  find  a 
pleasure  in  sympathy ;  it  will  feed  upon  it,  it  will  be 
strengthened  by  it ;  but  its  fluctuating  and  doubtful  char- 
acter will  prevent  its  becoming  the  principle  of  permanent 
and  extensive  association  ;  will  prevent  it  from  accommo- 
dating itself  to  any  system  of  precepts,  of  discipline,  of 
forms ;  will  prevent  it,  in  a  word,  from  giving  birth  to  a 
society,  to  a  religious  government. 

But  either  I  have  strangely  deceived  myself,  or  this 
religious  feeling  does  not  comprehend  the  whole  reli- 
gious nature  of  man.  Eeligion,  in  my  opinion,  is  quite 
another  thing,  and  infinitely  more  comprehensive  than  this. 

Joined  to  the  destinies  and  nature  of  man,  there  are  a 
number  of  problems  whose  solution  we  cannot  work  out  in 
the  present  life  ;  these,  though  connected  with  an  order  of 
things  strange  and  foreign  to  the  world  around  us,  and  ap- 
parently beyond  the  reach  of  human  faculties,  do  not  the 
less  invincibly  torment  the  soul  of  man,  part  of  whose  na- 
ture it  seems  to  be,  anxiously  to  desire  and  struggle  for  the 
clearing  up  of  the  mystery  in  which  they  are  involved. 
The  solution  of  these  problems, — -the  creeds  and  dogmas 
which  contain  it,  or  at  least  are  supposed  to  contain  it — 
such  is  the  first  object,  the  first  source,  of  religion. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   MODERN    EUROPE.  117 

Another  road  brings  us  to  the  same  point.  To  those 
among  us  who  have  made  some  progress  in  the  study  of 
moral  philosophy,  it  is  now,  I  presume,  become  sufficiently 
evident,  that  morality  may  exist  independently  of  religious 
ideas  ;  that  the  distinction  between  moral  good  and  moral 
evil,  the  obligation  to  avoid  evil  and  to  cleave  to  that  which 
is  good,  are  laws  as  much  acknowledged  by  man,  in  his 
proper  nature,  as  the  laws  of  logic ;  and  which  spring  as 
much  from  a  principle  within  him  as  in  his  actual  life  they 
find  their  application.  But  granting  these  truths  to  be 
proved,  yielding  up  to  morality  its  independence,  a  ques- 
tion naturally  arises  in  the  human  mind  :  whence  cometh 
morality,  whither  doth  it  lead  1  This  obligation  to  do  good, 
which  exists  of  itself,  is  it  a  fact  standing  by  itself,  with- 
out author,  without  aim  1  Doth  it  not  conceal,  or  rather 
doth  it  not  reveal  to  man,  an  origin,  a  destiny,  reaching 
beyond  this  w^orld  l  By  this  question,  which  rises  spon- 
taneously and  inevitably,  morality,  in  its  turn,  leads  man 
to  the  porch  of  religion,  and  opens  to  him  a  sphere  from 
which  he  has  not  borrowed  it. 

Thus  on  one  side  the  problems  of  our  nature,  on  the 
other  the  necessity  of  seeking  a  sanction,  an  origin,  an 
aim,  for  morality,  open  to  us  fruitful  and  certain  sources 
of  religion.  Thus  it  presents  itself  before  us  under  many 
other  aspects  besides  that  of  a  simple  feeling  such  as  I 
have  described.     It  presents  itself  as  an  assemblage  : 

First,  of  doctrines  called  into  existence  by  the  problems 
which  man  finds  in  himself. 

Secondlj^,  of  precepts  which  correspond  with  these  doc- 
trines, and  give  to  natural  morality  a  signification  and 
sanction. 

Thirdly,  and  lastly,  of  promises  which  address  them 
selves  to  the  hopes  of  humanity  respecting  futurity. 

This  is  truly  what  constitutes  religion.  This  is  really 
what  it  is  at  bottom,  and  not  a  mere  form  of  sensibility,  a 
sally  of  the  imagination,  a  species  of  poetry. 


118  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

Religion  thus  brought  back  to  its  true  element,  to  its 
essence,  no  longer  appears  as  an  affair  purely  individual, 
but  as  a  powerful  and  fruitful  principle  of  association. 
Would  you  regard  it  as  a  system  of  opinions,  of  dogmas'? 
The  answer  is,  truth  belongs  to  no  one,  it  is  universal,  ab- 
solute ;  all  men  are  prone  to  seek  it,  to  profess  it  in  com- 
mon. Would  you  rest  upon  the  precepts  which  are  asso- 
ciated with  the  doctrines  1  The  reply  is,  law  obligatory 
upon  one  is  obligatory  upon  all — man  is  bound  to  promul- 
gate it,  to  bring  all  under  its  authority.  It  is  the  same 
with  respect  to  the  promises  which  religion  makes  as  the 
rewards  of  obedience  to  its  faith  and  its  precepts ;  it  is  ne- 
cessary they  should  be  spread,  and  that  these  fruits  of  reli- 
gion should  be  offered  to  all.  From  the  essential  elements 
of  religion  then  is  seen  to  spring  up  a  religious  society ; 
and  it  springs  from  them  so  infallibly  that  the  word  which 
expresses  the  social  feeling  Avith  the  greatest  energy, 
which  expresses  our  invincible  desire  to  propagate  ideas, 
to  extend  society,  is  proselytism — a  term  particularly  ap- 
plied to  religious  creeds,  to  which  it  seems  almost  exclu- 
sively consecrated. 

A  religious  society  once  formed, — whep  a  certain  num- 
ber of  men  are  joined  together  by  the  same  religious  opin- 
ions and  belief,  yield  obedience  to  the  same  law  of  reli- 
gious precepts,  and  are  inspired  with  the  same  religious 
hopes,  they  need  a  government.  No  society  can  exist  a 
week,  no  not  even  an  hour,  without  a  government.  At  the 
very  instant  in  which  a  society  is  formed,  by  the  very  act 
of  its  formation  it  calls  forth  a  government,  \vhich  pro- 
claims the  common  truth  that  holds  them  together,  which 
promulgates  and  maintains  the  precepts  that  this  truth 
may  be  expected  to  bring  forth.  That  a  religious  society, 
like  all  others,  requires  a  controlling  power,  a  govern- 
ment, is  implied  in  the  very  fact  that  a  society  exists. 
And  not  only  is  a  government  necessary,  but  it  naturally 
arises  of  itself.     I  cannot  spare  much  time  to  show  how 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  119 

governments  rise  and  become  established  in  society  in 
general  I  shall  only  remark  that  when  matters  are  left 
to  take  their  natural  course,  when  no  exterior  force  is  ap- 
plied to  drive  them  from  their  usual  route,  power  will  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  most  capable,  of  the  most  worthy, 
into  the  hands  of  those  who  will  lead  society  on  its  way. 
Are  there  thoughts  of  a  military  expedition  1  the  bravest 
will  have  the  command.  Is  society  anxious  about  some 
discover}^,  some  learned  enterprise  1  the  most  skilful  will 
be  sought  for.  The  same  will  take  place  in  all  other  mat- 
ters. Let  but  the  common  order  of  things  be  observed, 
let  the  natural  inequality  of  men  freely  display  itself,  and 
each  will  find  the  station  that  he  is  best  fitted  to  fill.  So, 
as  regards  religion,  men  will  be  found  no  more  equal  in 
talents,  in  abilities,  and  in  power,  than  they  are  in  other 
matters  :  this  man  has  a  more  striking  method  than  others 
in  proclaiming  the  doctrines  of  religion  and  making  con- 
verts ;  another  has  more  power  in  enforcing  religious  pre- 
cepts ;  a  third  may  excel  in  exciting  religious  hopes  and 
emotions,  and  keeping  the  soul  in  a  devout  and  holy  frame. 
The  same  inequality  of  faculties  and  of  influence,  which 
gives  rise  to  power  in  civil  society,  will  be  found  to  exist 
in  religious  society.  Missionaries,  like  generals,  go  forth 
to  conquer.  So  that  while,  on  the  one  hand,  religious 
government  naturally  flows  from  the  nature  of  religious 
society,  it  as  naturally  develops  itself,  on  the  other,  by 
the  simple  effect  of  human  faculties,  and  their  unequal 
distribution.  Thus  the  moment  that  religion  takes  pos- 
session of  a  man,  a  religious  society  begins  to  be  formed  ; 
and  the  moment  this  religious  society  appears  it  gives 
birth  to  a  government. 

A  grave  objection,  however,  here  presents  itself:  in  this 
case  there  is  nothing  to  command,  nothing  to  impose  ;  no 
kind  of  force  can  here  be  legitimate.  There  is  no  place 
for  government,  because  here  the  most  perfect  liberty 
ought  to  prevail. 


120  GENERAL    HISTORY   OF 

Be  it  so.  But  is  it  not  forming  a  gross  and  degrading 
idea  of  government,  to  suppose  that  it  resides  only^  to 
suppose  that  it  resides  chiefiy^  in  the  force  which  it  exer- 
cises to  make  itself  obeyed,  in  its  coercive  element  % 

Let  us  quit  religion  for  a  moment,  and  turn  to  civil  gov- 
ernments. Trace  with  me,  I  beseech  you,  the  simple 
march  of  circumstances.  Society  exists.  Something  is 
to  be  done,  ho  matter  what,  in  its  name  and  for  its  inter- 
est ;  a  law  has  to  be  executed,  some  measure  to  be  adopt- 
ed, a  judgment  to  be  pronounced.  Now,  certainly,  there 
is  a  proper  method  of  supplying  these  social  v/ants  j  there 
is  a  proper  law  to  make,  a  proper  measure  to  adopt,  a 
proper  judgment  to  pronounce.  Whatever  may  be  the 
matter  in  hand,  whatever  may  be  the  interest  in  question, 
there  is,  upon  every  occasion,  a  truth  which  must  be  dis- 
covered, and  which  ought  to  decide  the  matter,  and  gov- 
ern the  conduct  to  be  adopted.     _ 

The  first  business  of  government  is  to  seek  this  truth, 
is  to  discover  what  is  just,  reasonable  and  suitable  to  so- 
ciety. When  this  is  found,  it  is  proclaimed  :  the  next 
business  is  to  introduce  it  to  the  public  mind  ;  to  get  it 
approved  by  the  men  upon  whom  it  is  to  act ;  to  persuade 
them  that  it  is  reasonable.  In  all  this  is  there  any  thing 
coercive  %  Not  at  all.  Suppose  now  that  the  truth  which 
ought  to  decide  upon  the  affair,  no  matter  what  j  suppose, 
I  say,  that  the  truth  being  found  and  proclaimed,  all  un- 
derstandings should  be  at  once  convinced ;  all  wills 
at  once  determined ;  that  all  should  acknowledge  that 
the  government  was  right,  and  obey  it  spontaneously. 
There  is  nothing  yet  of  compulsion,  no  occasion  for 
the  employment  of  force.  Does  it  follow  then  that  a 
government  does  not  exist  1  Is  there  nothing  of  gov- 
ernment in  all  this  %  To  be  sure  there  is,  and  it  has 
accomplished  its  task.  Compulsion  appears  not  till  the 
resistance  of  individuals  calls  for  it — till  the  idea,  the 
decision  which  authority  has  adopted,  fails  to  obtain  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  121 

^ipprobation  or  the  voluntary  submission  of  all.  Then 
government  employs  force  to  make  itself  obej^ed.  This 
is  a  necessary  consequence  of  human  imperfection  j  an 
imperfection  which  resides  as  well  in  power  as  in  society. 
There  is  no  way  of  entirely  avoiding  this  j  civil  govern- 
ments will  always  be  obliged  to  have  recourse,  to  a  cer- 
tain degree,  to  compulsion.  Still  it  is  evident  they  are 
not  made  up  of  compulsion,  because,  whenever  they  can, 
they  are  glad  to  do  without  it,  to  the  great  blessing  of  all ; 
and  their  highest  point  of  perfection  is  to  be  able  to  dis- 
card it,  and  to  trust  to  means  purely  moral,  to  their  influ- 
ence upon  the  understanding  :  so  that,  in  proportion  as 
government  can  dispense  with  compulsion  and  force,  the 
more  faithful  it  is  to  its  true  nature,  and  the  better  it  ful- 
fils the  purpose  for  which  it  is  sent.  This  is  not  to  shrink, 
this  is  not  to  give  way,  as  people  commonly  cry  out ;  it 
is  merely  acting  in  a  different  manner,  in  a  manner  much 
more  general  and  powerful.  Thoge  governments  which 
employ  the  most  compulsion  perform  much  less  than  those 
which  scarcely  ever  have  recourse  to  it.  Government, 
by  addressing  itself  to  the  understanding,  by  engaging 
the  free  will  of  its  subjects,  by  acting  by  means  purely 
intellectual,  instead  of  contracting,  expands  and  elevates 
itself  5  it  is  then  that  it  accomplishes  most,  and  attains  to 
the  grandest  objects.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  when  gov- 
ernment is  obliged  to  be  constantly  employing  its  physical 
arm  that  it  becomes  weak  and  restrained — that  it  does 
little,  and  does  that  little  badly. 

The  essence  of  government  then  by  no  means  resides 
in  compulsion,  in  the  exercise  of  brute  force  ;  it  consists 
more  especially  of  a  system  of  means  and  powers,  con- 
ceived for  the  purpose  of  discovering  upon  all  occasions 
what  is  best  to  be  done,  for  the  purpose  of  discovering 
the  truth  which  by  right  ought  to  govern  society,  for  the 
purpose  of  persuading  all  men  to  acknowledge  this  truth, 

11 


122  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

to  adopt  and  respect  it  willingly  and  freely.  Thus  I  think 
I  have  shown  that  the  necessity  for.  and  the  existence  of 
a  government,  are  very  conceivable,  even  though  there 
should  be  no  room  for  compulsion,  even  though  it  should 
be  absolutely  forbidden.  • 

This  is  exactly  the  case  in  the  government  of  religious 
society.  There  is  no  doubt  but  compulsion  is  here  strict- 
ly forbidden ;  there  can  be  no  doubt,  as  its  only  territorj^ 
is  the  conscience  of  man,  but  that  every  species  of  force 
must  be  illegal,  whatever  may  be  the  end  designed.  But 
government  does  not  exist  the  less  on  this  account. 
It  still  has  to  perform  all  the  duties  which  we  have  just 
now  enumerated.  It  is  incumbent  upon  it  to  seek  out  the 
religious  doctrines  which  resolve  the  problems  of  human 
destiny ;  or  if  a  general  system  of  faith  beforehand  ex- 
ists, in  which  these  problems  are  already  resolved,  it  will 
be  its  duty  to  discover  and  set  forth  its  consequences  in 
each  particular  case.  It  will  be  its  duty  to  promulgate 
and  maintain  the  precepts  which  correspond  to  its  doc- 
trines. It  will  be  its  duty  to  preach  them,  to  teach  them, 
and,  if  society  wanders  from  them,  to  bring  it  back  again 
to  the  right  path.  No  compulsion ;  but  the  investigation, 
the  preaching,  the  teaching  of  religious  truths  ;  the  ad- 
ministering to  religious  wants  ;  admonishing;  censuring  5 
this  is  the  task  which  religious  government  has  to  per- 
form. Suppress  all  force  and  coercion  as  much  as  you 
desire,  still  you  will  see  all  the  essential  questions  con- 
nected with  the  organization  of  a  government  present 
themselves  before  you,  and  demand  a  solution.  The 
question,  for  example,  whether  a  body  of  religious  ma- 
gistrates is  necessary,  or  whether  it  is  possible  to  trust  to 
the  religious  inspiration  of  individuals  1  This  question, 
which  is  a  subject  of  debate  between  most  religious  soci- 
eties and  that  of  the  Quakers,  will  always  exist,  it  must 
always  remain  a  matter  of  discussion.     Again,  granting 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  123 

a  body  of  religious  magistrates  to  be  necessary,  the  ques- 
tion arises  whether  a  system  of  equality  is  to  be  prefer- 
red, or  an  hierarchal  constitution — a  graduated  series  of 
powers^  This  question  will  not  cease  because  you  take 
from,  the  ecclesiastical  magistrates,  whatever  they  may 
be,  all  means  of  compulsion.  Instead  then  of  dissolving 
religious  society  in  order  to  hav^e  the  right  to  destroy 
religious  government,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  reli- 
gious society  forms  itself  naturally,  that  religious  govern- 
ment flows  no  less  naturally  from  religious  society,  and 
that  the  problem  to  be  solved  is  on  what  conditions  this 
government  ought  to  exist,  on  what  it  is  based,  what  are 
its  principles,  what  the  conditions  of  its  legitimacy  ]  This 
is  the  investigation  which  the  existence  of  religious  gov- 
ernment, as  of  all  others,  compels  us  to  undertake. 

The  conditions  of  legitimacy  are  the  same  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  a  religious  society  as  in  all  others. — They 
may  be  reduced  to  two  :  the  first  is,  that  authority  should 
be  placed  and  constantly  remain,  as  effectually  at  least  as 
the  imperfection  of  all  human  affairs  will  permit,  in  the 
hands  of  the  best,  the  most  capable  ;  so  that  the  legiti- 
mate superiority,  which  lies  scattered  in  various  parts  of 
society,  may  be  thereby  drawn  out,  collected,  and  dele- 
gated to  discover  the  social  law — to  exercise  its  authority. 
The  second  is,  that  the  authority  thus  legitimately  consti- 
tuted should  respect  the  legitimate  liberties  of  those  over 
whom  it  is  called  to  govern.  A  good  system  for  the  for- 
mation and  organization  of  authority,  a  good  system  of 
securities  for  liberty,  are  the  two  conditions  in  which  the 
goodness  of  government  in  general  resides,  whether  civil 
or  religious.  And  it  is  by  this  standard  that  all  govern- 
ments should  be  judged. 

Instead,  then,  of  reproaching  the  Church,  the  govern- 
ment of  the  Christian  world,  with  its  existence,  let  us 
examine  how  it  was  constituted,  and  see  whether  itsprin- 


124 


GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 


ciples  correspond  with  the  two  essential  conditions  of  all 
good  government. 

Let  us  examine  the  Church  in  this  twofold  point  of 
view\ 

In  the  first  place,  with  regard  to  the  formation  and 
transmission  of  authority  in  the  Church,  there  is  a  word, 
which  has  often  been  made  use  of,  which  I  wish  to  get  rid 
of  altogether.  I  mean  the  word  caste.  This  word  has 
been  too  frequently  applied  to  the  Christian  clergy,  but  its 
application  to  that  body  is  both  improper  and  unjust.  The 
idea  of  hereditary  right  is  inherent  to  the  idea  of  caste. 
In  every  part  of  the  w^orld,  in  every  country  inw^hich  the 
system  of  caste  has  prevailed — in  Egypt,  in  India — from 
the  earliest  times  to  the  present  day — ^you  will  find  that 
castes  have  been  everywhere  essentially  hereditary  :  they 
are,  in  fact,  the  transmission  of  the  same  rank  and  condi- 
tion, of  the  same  power,  from  father  to  son.  Now 
where  there  is  no  inheritance  there  is  no  caste,  but  a  cor- 
poration. The  esprit  de  corjjs,  or  that  certain  degree  of 
love  and  interest  which  every  individual  of  an  order  feels 
tow^ards  it  as  a  whole,  as  well  as  towards  all  its  members, 
has  its  inconveniences,  but  differs  very  essentially  from 
the  spirit  of  caste  (esprit  de  caste).  The  celibacy  of  the 
clergy  of  itself  renders  the  application  of  this  term  to 
the  Christian  Church  altogether  improper. 

The  important  consequences  of  this  distinction  cannot 
have  escaped  you.  To  the  system  of  castes,  to  the  cir- 
cumstance of  inheritance,  certain  peculiar  privileges  are 
necessarily  attached  ;  the  very  definition  of  caste  implies 
this.  Where  the  same  functions,  the  same  powers  become 
hereditary  in  the  same  families,  it  is  evident  that  they  pos- 
sess peculiar  privileges,  which  none  can  acquire  independ- 
ently of  birth.  This  is  indeed  exactly  w^hat  has  taken  place 
whereA'er  the  religious  government  has  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  a  caste  ;  it  has  become  a  matter  of  privilege  j  all 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  125 

were  shut  out  from  it  but  those  who  belonged  to  the  families 
of  the  caste.  Now  nothing  like  this  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Christian  Church.  Not  only  is  the  Church  entirely  free 
from  this  fault,  but  she  has  constantly  maintained  the 
principle,  that  all  men,  whatever  their  origin,  are  equally 
privileged  to  enter  her  ranks,  to  fill  her  highest  offices,  to 
enjoy  her  proudest  dignities.  The  ecclesiastical  career, 
particularly  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  was  open 
to  all.  The  Church  was  recruited  from  all  ranks  of  soci- 
ety, from  the  lower  as  well  as  the  higher,  indeed  most 
frequently  from  the  lower.  When  all  around  her  fell  un- 
der the  tyranny  of  privilege,  she  alone  maintained  the 
principlfe  of  equality,  of  competition  and  emulation ;  she 
alone  called  the  superior  of  all  classes  {toutes  les  superiori' 
tes  legitimes)  to  the  possession  of  power.  This  is  the 
first  great  consequence  which  naturally  flowed  from  the 
fact  that  the  Church  was  a  corporation  and  not  a  caste. 

I  will  show  you  a  second.  It  is  the  inherent  nature  of 
all  castes  to  possess  a  degree  of  immobility.  This  asser- 
tion requires  no  proof.  Turn  over  the  pages  of  history, 
and  you  will  find  that  wherever  the  tyranny  of  castes  has 
predominated,  society,  whether  religious  or  political,  has 
universally  become  sluggish  and  torpid.  A  dread  of  im- 
provement was  certainly  introduced  at  a  certain  epoch, 
and  up  to  a  certain  point,  into  the  Christian  Ckurch.  But 
whatever  regret  this  may  cost  us,  it  cannot  be  said  that  this 
feeling  ever  generally  prevailed.  It  cannot  be  said  that 
the  Christian  Church  ever  remained  inactive  and  station- 
ary. For  a  long  course  of  centuries  she  was  always  in 
motion  j  at  one  time  pushed  forward  by  her  opponents 
without,  at  others  driven  on  by  an  inward  impulse — by 
the  want  of  reform,  or  of  interior  development.  The 
Church,  indeed,  taken  as  a  whole,  has  been  constantly 
changing — constantly  advancing — her  history  is  diversi- 
fied and  progressive.     Can  it  be  doubted  that  she  was  in* 

11* 


126  GE>-ERAL    HISTOHY    OF 

debted  for  this  to  the  admission  of  all  classes  to  the 
priestly  offices,  to  the  continual  filling  up  of  her  ranks, 
upon  a  principle  of  equality,  by  v.hich  a  stream  of  young 
and  vigorous  blood  was  ever  flowing  into  her  veins,  keep- 
ing her  unceasingly  active  and  stirring,  and  defending 
her  from  the  reproach  of  apathy  and  immobility  which 
might  otherwise  have  triumphed  over  her  1 

But  how  did  the  Church,  in  admitting  all  classes  to  pow- 
er, satisfy  herself  that  they  had  the  right  to  be  so  admitted  1 
How  did  she  discover  and  proceed  in  taking  from  the  bo- 
som of  society,  the  legitimate  superiorities  who  should 
have  a  share  in  her  government  1  In  the  Church  two  prin- 
ciples were  in  full  vigour  :  first,  the  election  of  the  inferior 
by  the  superior,  which,  in  fact,  was  nothing  niare  than 
choice  or  nomination  ;  secondly,  the  election  of  the  supe- 
rior by  the  subordinates,  or  election  properly  so  called, 
and  such  as  we  conceive  to  be  election  in  the  present  day. 
The  ordination  of  priests,  for  example,  the  power  of  rais- 
ing a  man  to  the  priestly  office,  rested  solely  w^iththe  supe- 
rior. He  alone  made  choice  of  the  candidate  for  holy  or- 
ders. The  case  was  the  same  in  the  collation  to  certain 
ecclesiastical  benefices,  such  as  those  attached  to  feudal 
grants,  and  some  others  j  it  was  the  superior,  whether  king, 
pope,  or  lord,  who  nominated  to  the  benefice.  In  other 
cases  the  true  principle  cf  election  prevailed.  The  bishops 
had  been,  for  a  long  time,  and  were  still,  often,  in  the  pe- 
riod under  consideration,  elected  by  the  inferior  clergy  j 
even  the  people  sometimes  took  part  in  them.  In  monas- 
teries the  abbot  was  elected  by  the  monks.  At  Rome, 
the  pope  was  elected  by  the  college  of  cardinals ;  and,  at 
an  earlier  date,  even  all  the  Roman  clergy  had  a  voice  in 
his  election.  You  may  here  clearly  observe,  then,  the  two 
principles,  the  choice  of  the  inferior  by  the  superior,  and 
the  election  of  the  superior  by  the  subordinates ;  which 
were  admitted  and  acted  upon  in  the  Church,  particularly 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  127 

at  the  period  which  now  engages  our  attention.  It  was  bv 
one  of  these  two  means  that  men  were  appointed  to  the 
various  offices  in  the  Church,  or  obtained  any  portion  of 
ecclesiastical  authority. 

These  two  principles  were  not  only  in  operation  at  the 
same  time,  but  being  altogether  opposite  in  their  nature, 
a  constant  struggle  prevailed  between  them.  After  a 
strife  for  centuries,  after  many  vicissitudes,  the  nomina- 
tion of  the  inferior  by  the  superior  gained  the  day  in  the 
Christian  Church.  Yet,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  cen- 
turj',  the  opposite  principle,  the  election  of  the  superior 
by  the  subordinates,  continued  generally  to  prevail. 

We  must  not  be  astonished  at  the  co-existence  of  these 
two  opposite  principles.  If  we  look  at  society  in  general, 
at  the  common  course  of  affairs,  at  the  manner  in  which 
authority  is  there  transmitted,  w^e  shall  find  that  this 
transmission  is  sometimes  effected  by  one  of  these  modes, 
and  sometimes  the  other.  The  Church  did  not  invent 
them,  she  found  them  in  the  providential  government  of 
human  things,  and  borrowed  them  from  it.  There  is  some- 
what of  truth,  of  utility,  in  both.  Their  combination  would 
often  prove  the  best  mode  of  discovering  legitimate  power. 
It  is  a  great  misfortune,  in  my  opinion,  that  only  one  of 
them,  the  choice  of  the  inferior  by  the  superior,  should 
have  been  victorious  in  the  Church.  The  second,  however, 
w^as  never  entirely  banished,  but  under  various  names,  with 
more  or  less  success,  has  re-appeared  in  every  epoch,  wnth 
at  least  sufficient  force  to  protest  against,  and  interrupt, 
prescription. 

The  Christian  Church,  at  the  period  of  wdiich  we  are 
speaking,  derived  an  immense  force  from  its  respect  for 
equality  and  the  various  kinds  of  legitimate  superiority. 
It  was  the  most  popular  society  of  the  time — the  most 
accessible  ;  it  alone  opened  its  arms  to  all  the  talents,  to 
all  the  ambitiously  noble  of  our  race.     To  this,  above  all, 


l28  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

it  owed  its  greatness,  at  least  certainly  much  more  than 
to  its  riches,  and  the  illegitimate  means  which  it  but  too 
often  employed. 

With  regard  to  the  second  condition  of  a  good  govern- 
ment, namely,  a  respect  for  liberty,  that  of  the  Church 
leaves  much  to  be  desired. 

Two  bad  principles  here  met  together.  One  avowed, 
forming  part  and  parcel,  as  it  were,  of  the  doctrines  of 
the  Church  ;  the  other,  in  no  way  a  legitimate  conse- 
quence of  her  doctrines,  was  introduced  into  her  bosom 
by  human  weakness. 

The  first  was  a  denial  of  the  rights  of  individual  reason 
— the  claim  of  transmitting  points  of  faith  from  the  high- 
est authority,  downwards,  throughout  the  whole  religious 
body,  without  allowing  to  any  one  the  right  of  examining 
them  for  himself.  But  it  was  more  easy  to  lay  this  down 
as  a  principle  than  to  carry  it  out  in  practice ;  and  the 
reason  is  obvious,  for  a  conviction  cannot  enter  into  the 
human  mind  unless  the  human  mind  first  opens  the  door 
to  it ;  it  cannot  enter  by  force.  In  whatever  way  it  may 
present  itself,  whatever  name  it  may  invoke,  reason  looks 
to  it,  and  if  it  forces  an  entrance,  it  is  because  reason  is 
satisfied.  Thus  individual  reason  has  always  continued 
to  exist,  and  under  w^hatever  name  it  may  have  been  dis- 
guised, has  always  considered  and  reflected  upon  the  ideas 
which  have  been  attempted  to  be  forced  upon  it.  Still, 
however,  it  must  be  admitted  but  as  too  true,  that  reason 
often  becomes  impaired ;  that  she  loses  her  power,  be- 
comes mutilated  and  contracted — that  she  may  be  brought 
not  only  to  make  a  sorry  use  of  her  faculties,  but  to  make 
a  more  limited  use  of  them  than  she  ought  to  do.  So 
far  indeed  the  bad  principle  which  crept  into  the  Church 
took  effect,  but  with  regard  to  the  practical  and  complete 
operation  of  this  principle,  it  never  took  place — it  was 
infipossible  it  ever  should. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  129 

The  second  vicious  principle  was  the  right  of  compul- 
sion assumed  by  the  Romish  church  5  a  right,  however, 
contrary  to  the  very  nature  and  spirit  of  religious  society, 
to  the  origin  of  the  Church  itself,  and  to  its  primitive 
maxims.  A  right,  too,  disputed  by  some  of  the  most 
illustrious  fathers  of  the  Church — by  St.  Ambrose,  St. 
Hilary',  St.  Martin, — but  which,  nevertheless,  prevailed 
and  became  an  important  feature  in  its  history.  The 
right  it  assumed  of  forcing  belief,  if  these  two  words  can 
stand  together,  or  of  punishing  faith  physically,  of  perse- 
cuting heresy,  that  is  to  say,  a  contempt  for  the  legitimate 
liberty  of  human  thought,  was  an  error  which  found  its 
way  into  the  Romish  church  before  the  beginning  of  the 
fifth  century,  and  has  in  the  end  cost  her  very  dear. 

If  then  we  consider  the  state  of  the  Church  with  regard 
to  the  liberty  of  its  members,  v*'e  must  confess  that  its  prin- 
ciples in  this  respect  were  less  legitimate,  less  salutary, 
than  those  which  presided  at  the  rise  and  formation  of  ec- 
clesiastical power.  It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed, 
that  a  bad  principle  radically  vitiates  an  institution  ;  nor 
even  that  it  does  it  all  the  mischief  of  which  it  is  pregnant. 
Nothing  tortures  history  more  than  logic.  No  sooner 
does  the  human  mind  seize  upon  an  idea,  than  it  draws 
from  it  all  its  possible  consequences  ;  makes  it  produce,  in 
imagination,  all  that  it  would  in  reality  be  capable  of  pro- 
ducing, and  then  figures  it  down  in  history  with  all  the  ex- 
travagant additions  which  itself  has  conjured  up.  This 
however  is  nothing  like  the  truth.  Events  are  not  so 
prompt  in  their  consequences,  as  the  human  mind  in  its 
deductions.  There  is  in  all  things  a  mixture  of  good  and 
evil,  so  profound,  so  inseparable,  that,  in  whatever  part 
you  penetrate,  if  even  you  descend  to  the  lowest  elements' 
of  society,  or  into  the  soul  itself,  you  will  there  find  these 
two  principles  dwelling  together,  developing  themselves 
gide  by  side,  perpetually  struggling  and  quarrelling  with 


130  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

each  other,  but  neither  of  them  ever  obtaining  a  complete 
victory,  or  absohitely  destroying  its  fellow.  Human  na- 
ture never  reaches  to  the  extreme  either  of  good,  or  evil. 
It  passes,  without  ceasing,  from  one  to  the  other ;  it 
recovers  itself  at  the  moment  when  it  seems  lost  for  ever. 
It  slips  and  loses  ground  at  the  moment  when  it  seems  to 
have  assumed  the  firmest  position. 

We  again  discover  here  that  character  of  discordance, 
of  diversity,  of  strife,  to  which  I  formerly  called  your  at- 
tention, as  the  fundamental  character  of  European  civili- 
zation. Besides  this,  there  is  another  general  fact  which 
characterizes  the  government  of  the  Church,  which  we 
must  not  pass  over  without  notice.  In  the  present  day, 
when  the  idea  of  government  presents  itself  to  our 
mind,  we  know,  of  whatever  kind  it  may  be,  that  it  will 
scarcely  pretend  to  any  authority  beyond  the  outward  ac- 
tions of  men,  beyond  the  civil  relations  between  man  and 
maiT.  Governments  do  not  profess  to  carry  their  rule 
further  than  this.  With  regard  to  human  thought,  to  the 
human  conscience,  to  the  intellectual  powers  of  man  ; 
with  regard  to  individual  opinions,  to  private  morals, — 
with  these  they  do  not  interfere  :  this  would  be  to  invade 
the  domain  of  liberty. 

The  Christian  Church  did,  and  was  bent  upon  doing, 
exactly  the  contrary.  What  she  undertook  to  govern  was 
the  human  thought,  human'  liberty,  private  morals,  individ- 
ual opinions  She  did  not  draw  up  a  code  like  ours,  which 
took  account  only  of  those  crimes  that  are  at  the  same  time 
offensive  to  morals  and  dangerous  to  society,  punishing 
them  only  when,  and  because,  they  bore  this  twofold  char- 
acter ;  but  prepared  a  catalogue  of  all  those  actions,  crimi- 
nal more  particularly  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  and  punished 
them  all  under  the  name  of  sins.  Her  aim  was  their 
entire  suppression.  In  a  word,  the  government  of  the 
Church  did  not,  like  our  modern  governments,  direct  her 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  131 

attention  to  the  outward  man,  or  to  the  purely  civil  rela- 
tions of  men  among  themselves,  she  addressed  herself  to 
the  inward  man,  to  the  thought,  to  the  conscience;  in  fact, 
to  that  which  of  all  things  is  most  hidden  and  secure,  most 
free,  and  Avhich  spurns  the  least  restraint.  The  Church, 
then,  by  the  yery  nature  of  its  undertaking,  combined  with 
the  nature  of  some  of  the  principles  upon  which  its  govern- 
ment was  founded,  stood  in  great  peril  of  falling  into  tyran- 
ny ;  of  an  illegitimate  employment  of  force.  In  the  mean 
time,  this  force  was  encountered  by  a  resistance  w^ithin  the 
Church  itself,  which  it  could  never  overcome.  Human 
thought  and  liberty,  however  fettered,  however  confined 
for  room  and  space  in  which  to  exercise  their  faculties, 
oppose  with  so  much  energy  every  attempt  to  enslave 
them,  that  their  reaction  makes  even  despotism  itself  to 
yield,  and  give  up  something  every  moment.  This  took 
place  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  Christian  Church.  We 
have  seen  heresy  proscribed — the  right  of  free  inquiry  con- 
demned ;  a  contempt  shown  for  individual  reason,  the 
principle  of  the  imperative  transmission  of  doctrines  by 
human  authority  established.  And  yet  where  can  we  find 
a  society  in  which  individual  reason  more  boldly  developed 
itself  than  in  the  Church  1  What  are  sects  and  heresies,  if 
not  the  fruit  of  individual  opinions  1  These  sects,  these 
heresies,  all  these  oppositions  which  arose  in  the  Christian 
Church,  are  the  most  decisive  proof  of  the  life  and  moral 
activity  which  reigned  w^ithin  her :  a  life  stormy,  painful, 
sown  with  perils,  w4th  errors  and  crimes — yet  splendid 
and  mighty,  and  which  has  given  place  to  the  noblest  deve- 
lopments of  intelligence  and  mind.  But  leaving  the  opposi- 
tion, and  looking  to  the  ecclesiastical  government  itself — 
how  does  the  case  stand  here  1  You  will  find  it  constituted, 
you  will  find  it  acting,  in  a  manner  quite  opposite  to  what 
you  would  expect  from  some  of  its  principles.  It  denies 
the  right  of  inquiry,  it  wishes  to  deprive  individual  reason 


132  GEiXERAL    HISTORY    OF 

of  its  liberty  ;  yet  it  appeals  to  reason  incessantly  ;  practi^ 
cal  liberty  actually  predominates  in  its  affairs;  What  are 
its  institutions,  its  means  of  action  1  Provincial  councils, 
national  councils,  general  councils  ;  a  perpetual  correspon- 
dence, a  perpetual  publication  of  letters,  of  admonitions, 
of  writings.  No  government  ever  went  so  far  in  discus- 
sions and  open  deliberations.  One  might  fancy  one's  self  in 
the  midst  of  the  philosophical  schools  of  Greece.  But  it 
was  not  here  a  mere  discussion,  it  was  not  a  simple 
search  after  truth  that  here  occupied  the  attention;  it 
was  questions  of  authority,  of  measures  to  be  taken,  of 
decrees  to  be  drawn  up,  in  short,  the  business  of  a  gov- 
ernment. Such  indeed  was  the  energy  of  intellectual 
life  in  the  bosom  of  this  government,  that  it  became  its 
predominant,  universal  character  ;  to  this  all  others  gave 
way  ;  and  that  which  shone  forth  from  all  its  parts,  was 
the  exercise  of  reason  and  liberty. 

I  am  far,  notwithstanding  all  this,  from  believing  that 
the  vicious  principles,  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  ex- 
plain, and  which,  in  my  opinion,  existed  in  the  Christian 
Church,  existed  there  without  producing  any  effect.  In 
the  period  now  under  review,  they  already  bore  very  bit- 
ter fruits ;  at  a  later  period  they  bore  others  still  more 
bitter  ;  still  they  did  not  produce  all  the  evils  which  might 
have  been  expected,  they  did  not  choke  the  good  which 
sprang  up  in  the  same  soil. 

Such  was  the  Church  considered  in  itself,  in  its  interior, 
in  its  own  nature.  Let  us  now  consider  it,  in  its  relations 
with  sovereigns,  with  the  holders  of  temporal  authority. 
This  is  the  second  point  of  view  in  which  I  have  promised 
to  consider  it. 

When  at  the  fall  of  the  western  empire,  when,  instead  of 
the  ancient  Roman  government,  under  which  the  Church 
had  been  born,  under  which  she  had  grown  up,  with  which 
she  ha'^  common  habits  and  old  connections,  she  found  her- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  133 

self  surrounded  by  barbarian  kings,  by  barbarian  chieftains, 
wandering  from  place  to  place,  or  shut  up  in  their  castles, 
with  whom  she  had  nothing  in  common,  between  whom 
and  her  there  was  as  yet  no  tie -neither  traditions,  nor 
creeds,  nor  feelings  ;  her  danger  appeared  great,  and  her 
fears  were  equally  so. 

One  only  idea  became  predominant  in  the  Church,  it 
was  to  take  possession  of  these  new-comers — to  convert 
them.  The  relations  of  the  Church  with  the  barbarians 
had,  at  first,  scarcely  any  other  aim. 

To  gain  these  barbarians,  the  most  effective  means 
seemed  to  be  to  dazzle  their  senses,  and  work  upon  their 
imagination.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  number, 
pomp,  and  variety  of  religious  ceremonies  were  at  this 
epoch  wonderfully  increased.  The  ancient  chronicles 
particularly  show,  that  it  v/as  principally  in  this  way  that 
the  Church  worked  upon  the  barbarians.  She  converted 
them  by  grand  spectacles. 

But  even  when  they  had  become  settled  and  converted, 
even  after  the  growth  of  some  common  ties  between  them, 
the  danger  of  the  Church  was  not  over.  The  brutality,  the 
unthinking,  the  unreflecting  character  of  the  barbarians 
were  so  great,  that  the  new  faith,  the  new  feelino-s  with 
which  they  had  been  inspired,  exercised  but  a  very  slight 
empire  over  them.  AVhen  every  part  of  society  fell  a  prey 
to  violence,  the  Church  could  scarcely  hope  altogether  to 
escape.  To  save  herself  she  announced  a  principle,  which 
had  already  been  set  up,  though  but  very  vaguely,  under 
the  empire;  the  separation  of  spiritual  and  temporal  power 
and  their  mutual  independence.  It  was  by  the  aid  of  this 
principle  that  the  Church  dwelt  freely  by  the  side  of  the 
barbarians ;  she  maintained  that  force  had  no  authority 
over  religious  belief,  hopes,  or  promises,  and  that  the 
spiritual  and  temporal  worlds  are  completely  distinct. 

You  cannot   fail  to  see   at   once  the   beneficial  conse- 
12 


134  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

quences  which  have  resulted  from  this  principle.  Inde- 
pendently of  the  temporary  service  it  was  of  to  the  Church, 
it  has  had  the  inestimable  effect  of  founding  injustice  the 
separation  of  the  two  authorities,  of  preventing  one  from 
controlling  the  other.  In  addition  to  this,  the  Church,  by 
asserting  the  independence  of  the  intellectual  w^orld,  in  its 
collective  form,  prepared  the  independence  of  the  intel- 
lectual world  in  individuals — the  independence  of  thought. 
The  Church  declared  that  the  system  of  religious  belief 
could  not  be  brought  under  the  yoke  of  force,  and  each 
individual  has  been  led  to  hold  the  same  language  for 
himself.  The  principle  of  free  inquiry,  the  liberty  of  in- 
dividual thought,  is  exactly  the  same  as  that  of  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  spiritual  authority  in  general,  with  regard 
to  temporal  powder. 

The  desire  for  liberty,  unfortunately,  is  but  a  step  from 
the  desire  for  power.  The  Church  soon  passed  from  one 
to  the  other.  When  she  had  established  her  independence, 
it  was  in  accordance  with  the  natural  course  of  ambition 
that  she  should  attempt  to  raise  her  spiritual  authority 
above  temporal  authority.  We  must  not,  however,  sup- 
pose that  this  claim  had  any  other  origin  than  the  weak- 
nesses of  humanity  ;  some  of  these  are  very  profound,  and 
it  is  of  importance  that  they  should  be  known. 

When  liberty  prevails  in  the  intellectual  world,  when 
the  thoughts  and  consciences  of  men  are  not  enthralled  by 
a  power  which  calls  in  question  their  right  of  deliberating, 
of  deciding,  and  employs  its  authority  against  them  ;  when 
there  is  no  visible  constituted  spiritual  government  laying 
claim  to  the  right  of  dictating  opinions  ;  in  such  circum- 
stances, the  idea  of  the  domination  of  the  spiritual  order 
over  the  temporal  could  scarcely  spring  up.  Such  is  very 
nearly  the  present  state  of  the  world.  But  when  there 
exists,  as  there  did  in  the  tenth  century,  a  government  of 
the  spiritual  order ;  when  the  human  thought  and  con- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  135 

science  are  subject  to  certain  laws,  to  certain  institutions, 
to  certain  authorities,  which  have  arrogated  to  themselves 
the  right  to  govern,  to  constrain  them  ;  in  short,  when 
spiritual  authority  is  established,  when  it  has  effectively- 
taken  possession,  in  the  name  of  right  and  power,  of  the 
human  reason  and  conscience,  it  is  natural  that  it  should 
go  on  to  assume  a  domination  over  the  temporal  order ; 
that  it  should  argue:  "What !  have  I  a  right,  have  I  an 
authority  over  that  which  is  most  elevated,  most  indepen- 
dent in  man — over  his  thoughts,  over  his  interior  will,  over 
his  conscience ;  and  have  I  not  a  right  over  his  exterior,  his 
temporal  and  material  interests  1  Am  I  the  interpreter  of 
divine  justice  and  truth,  and  yet  not  able  to  regulate  the 
affairs  of  this  world  according  to  justice  and  truth  V  The 
force  of  this  l*easoning  shows  that  the  spiritual  order  had 
a  natural  tendency  to  encroach  on  the  temporal.  This 
tendency  was  increased  by  the  fact,  that  the  spiritual  or- 
der, at  this  time,  comprised  all  the  intelligence  of  the  age, 
every  possible  development  of  the  human  mind.  There 
was  but  one  science,  theology  ;  but  one  spiritual  order,  the 
theological :  all  the  other  sciences,  rhetoric,  arithmetic, 
and  even  music,  centered  in  theology. 

The  spiritual  power  finding  itself  thus  in  possession  of 
all  the  intelligence  of  the  age,  at  the  head  of  all  intellect- 
ual activity,  was  naturally  enough  led  to  arrogate  to  itself 
the  general  government  of  the  world. 

A  second  cause,  which  very  much  favoured  its  views, 
was  the  dreadful  state  of  the  temporal  order,  the  violence 
and  iniquity  which  prevailed  in  all  temporal  governments. 

For  some  centuries  past  men  might  speak,  with  a  degree 
of  confidence,  of  temporal  power  ;  but  temporal  power,  at 
the  epoch  of  which  we  are  speaking,  was  mere  brutal  force, 
a  system  of  rapine  and  violence.  The  Church,  howev^er 
imperfect  might  be  her  notions  of  morality  and  justice,  was 
infinitely  superior  to  a  temporal  government  such  as  this  j 


136  GENERAL    HISTORY   OF 

and  the  cry  of  the  people  continually  urged  her  to  take  its 
place.  When  a  pope  or  bishop  proclaimed  that  a  sove- 
reign had  lost  his  rights,  that  his  subjects  were  released 
from  their  oath  of  fidelity,  this  interference,  though  un- 
doubtedly liable  to  the  greatest  abuses,  was  often,  in  the 
particular  case  to  which  it  was  directed,  just  and  salutary. 
It  generally  holds,  indeed,  that  where  liberty  is  wanting, 
religion,  in  a  great  measure,  supplies  its  place.  In  the 
tenth  century,  the  oppressed  nations  were  not  in  a  state 
to  protect  themselves,  to  defend  their  rights  against  civil 
violence — religion,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  placed  itself 
between  them.  This  is  one  of  the  causes  which  most 
contributed  to  the  success  of  the  usurpations  of  the 
Church.  There  is  a  third  cause,  which,  in  my  opinion, 
has  not  been  sufficiently  noticed.  This  is  the  manifold 
character  and  situation  of  the  leaders  of  the  Church ;  the 
variety  of  aspects  under  which  they  appeared  in  society. 
On  one  side  they  were  prelates,  members  of  the  ecclesi- 
astical order,  a  portion  of  the  spiritual  power,  and  as  such 
independent :  on  the  other,  they  were  vassals,  and  by  this 
title  formed  one  of  the  links  of  civil  feudalism.  But  this 
was  not  all :  besides  being  vassals,  they  Avere  also  sub- 
jects. Something  similar  to  the  ancient  relations  in  which 
the  bishops  and  clergy  had  stood  towards  the  Roman  em- 
perors now  existed  between  the  clergy  and  the  barbarian 
sovereigns.  A  series  of  causes,  which  it  would  be  tedious 
to  detail,  had  brought  the  bishops  to  look  upon  the  barba- 
rian kings,  to  a  certain  degree,  as  the  successors  of  the 
Roman  emperors,  and  to  attribute  to  them  the  same 
rights.  The  heads  of  the  clergy  then  had  a  threefold 
character :  they  were  ecclesiastics,  and  as  such  held  to 
the  performance  of  certain  duties;  thirdly,  they  were 
mere  subjects,  and  as  such  bound  to  render  obedience  to 
an  absolute  sovereign.  Observe  the  necessary  conse- 
quence of  this,     The  temporal  sovereigns,  no  whit  less 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN   EUROPE.  137 

covetous,  no  whit  less  ambitious  than  the  bishops,  fre- 
quently made  use  of  their  temporal  power,  as  superiors  or 
sovereigns,  to  attack  the  independence  of  the  Church,  to 
usurp  the  right  of  collating  to  benefices,  of  nominating  to 
bishopricks,  and  so  on.  On  the  other  side,  the  bishops 
often  sheltered  themselves  under  their  spiritual  indepen- 
dence to  refuse  the  performance  of  their  obligations  as 
vassals  and  subjects ;  so  that  on  both  sides  there  was  an 
inevitable  tendency  to  trespass  on  the  rights  of  the  other: 
on  the  side  of  the  sovereigns,  to  destroy  spiritual  inde- 
pendence ;  on  the  side  of  the  heads  of  the  Church,  to  make 
their  spiritual  independence  the  means  of  universal  do- 
minion. 

This  result  showed  itself  sufficiently  plain  in  events 
well  known  to  you  all  5  in  the  quarrel  respecting  investi- 
tures ;  in  the  struggle  between  the  Holy  See  and  the  Em- 
pire. The  threefold  character  of  the  heads  of  the  Church, 
and  the  difficulty  of  preventing  them  from  trespassing  on 
one  another,  was  the  real  cause  of  the  uncertainty  and 
strife  of  all  its  pretensions. 

Finally,  the  Church  had  a  third  connexion  with  the  sove- 
reigns, and  it  was  to  her  the  most  disastrous  and  fatal.  She 
laid  claim  to  the  right  of  coercion,  to  the  right  of  re- 
straining and  punishing  heresy.  But  she  had  no  means 
by  which  to  do  this ;  she  had  no  physical  force  at  her 
disposal :  when  she  had  condemned  the  heretic,  she  was 
without  the  power  to  carry  her  sentence  into  execution. 
What  was  the  consequence  1  She  called  to  her  aid  the 
secular  arm  ;  she  had  to  borrow  the  power  of  the  civil 
authority  as  the  means  of  compulsion.  To  what  a 
wretched  shift  was  she  thus  driven  by  the  adoption  of  the 
wicked  and  detestable  principles  of  coercion  and  perse- 
cution ! 

I  must  stop  here.  There  is  not  sufficient  time  for  us  to 
finish  our  investigation  of  the  Church.  We  have  still  to 
12* 


138  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

consider  its  relation  with  the  people,  the  principles  which 
prevailed  in  its  intercourse  with  them,  and  Avhat  conse- 
quences resulted  from  its  bearing  upon  civilization  in  gen- 
eral. I  shall  afterwards  endeavour  to  confirm  by  history, 
by  facts,  by  what  befell  the  Church  from  the  fifth  to  the 
twelfth  century,  the  inductions  which  we  have  dra^\^l  from 
the  nature  of  her  institutions  and  principles. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  139 


LECTURE  VI. 

THE     CHURCH. 

In  the  present  lecture  we  shall  conclude  our  inquiries 
respecting  the  state  of  the  Church.  In  the  last,  I  stated 
that  I  should  place  it  before  you  in  three  principal  points 
of  view  :  first,  in  itself — in  its  interior  constitution  and  na- 
ture, as  a  distinct  and  independent  society :  secondly,  in 
its  relations  with  sovereigns,  with  temporal  power  ;  third- 
ly, in  its  relations  with  the  people.  Having  then  been  able 
to  accomplish  no  more  than  the  first  two  parts  of  my  task, 
it  remains  forme  to-day  to  place  before  you  the  Church  in 
its  relations  with  the  people.  I  shall  endeavour,  after  I 
have  done  this,  to  sum  up  this  threefold  examination,  and 
to  give  a  general  judgment  respecting  the  influence  of  the 
Church  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century;  finally,  I 
shall  close  this  part  of  my  subject  by  verifying  my  state- 
ments by  an  appeal  to  facts,  by  an  examination  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  Church  during  this  period. 

You  will  easily  understand  that,  in  speaking  of  the  re- 
lations of  the  Church  with  the  people,  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
confine  myself  to  very  general  views.  It  is  impossible 
that  I  should  enter  into  a  detail  of  the  practices  of  the 
Church,  or  recount  the  daily  intercourse  of  the  clergy  with 
their  charge.  It  is  the  prevailing  principles,  and  the  great 
effects  of  the  system  and  conduct  of  the  Church  towards 
the  body  of  Christians,  that  I  shall  endeavour  to  bring  be- 
fore you. 

A  striking  feature,  and  I  am  bound  to  say,  a  radical  vice 
in  the  relations  of  the  Church  with  the  people,  was  the 
separation  of  the  governors  and  the  governed,  which  left 
the  governed  without  any  influence  upon  their  govern- 


14jO  general  history  of 

ment,  which  established  the  independence  of  the  clergy 
with  respect  to  the  general  body  of  Christians. 

It  would  seem  as  if  this  evil  was  called  forth  by  the  state 
of  man  and  society,  for  it  was  introduced  into  the  Christian 
Church  at  a  very  early  period.  The  separation  of  the  cler- 
gy and  the  people  was  not  altogether  perfected  at  the  time 
of  which  we  are  speaking ;  there  were  certain  occasions 
— the  election  of  bishops,  for  example — upon  which  the 
people,  at  least  sometimes,  took  part  in  Church  govern- 
ment. This  interference,  however,  became  weaker  and 
weaker,  as  well  as  more  rare  ;  even  in  the  second  century 
it  had  begun  rapidly  and  visibly  to  decline.  Indeed,  the 
tendency  of  the  Church  to  detach  itself  from  the  rest  of 
society,  the  establishment  of  the  independence  of  the  cler- 
gy, forms,  to  a  great  extent,  the  history  of  the  Church  from 
its  very  cradle. 

It  is  impossible  to  disguise  the  fact,  that  from  this  cir- 
cumstance sprang  the  greater  number  of  abuses,  which, 
from  this  period,  cost  the  Church  so  dear  ;  as  well  as  many 
others  which  entered  into  her  system  in  after-times.  We 
must  not,  however,  impute  all  its  faults  to  this  principle,  nor 
must  we  regard  this  tendency  to  isolation  as  peculiar  to  the 
Christian  clergy.  There  is  in  the  very  nature  of  religious 
society  a  powerful  inclination  to  elevate  the  governors 
above  the  governed  j  to  regard  them  as  something  distinct, 
something  divine.  This  is  the  effect  of  the  mission  with 
which  they  are  charged ;  of  the  character  in  which  they 
appear  before  the  people.  This  effect,  however,  is  more 
hurtful  in  a  religious  society  than  in  any  other.  For  with 
what  do  they  pretend  to  interfere  1  With  the  reason  and 
conscience  and  future  destiny  of  man :  that  is  to  say,  with 
that  which  is  the  closest  locked  up  ;  with  that  which  is  most 
strictly  individual,  with  that  which  is  most  free.  We  can  im- 
agine how,  up  to  a  certain  point,  a  man,  whatever  ill  may  re- 
sult from  it,  may  give  up  the  direction  of  his  temporal  affairs 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  141 

to  an  outward  authority.  We  can  conceive  a  notion  of 
that  philosopher  who,  when  one  told  him  that  his  house 
was  on  fire,  said,  "  Go  and  tell  my  wife  ;  I  never  meddle 
with  household  affairs."  But  when  our  conscience,  our 
thoughts,  our  intellectual  existence  are  at  stake — to  give 
lip  the  government  of  one's  self,  to  deliver  over  one's 
very  soul  to  the  authority  of  a  stranger,  is,  indeed,  a  mo- 
ral suicide  :  is,  indeed,  a  thousand  times  worse  than 
bodily  servitude — than  to  become  a  mere  appurtenance  of 
the  soil. 

Such,  nevertheless,  was  the  evil,  which  without  ever,  as 
I  shall  presently  show,  completely  prevailing,  invaded 
more  and  more  the  Christian  Church  in  its  relations  with 
the  people.  We  have  already  seen,  that  even  in  the  bo- 
som of  the  Church  itself,  the  lower  orders  of  the  clergy 
had  no  guarantee  for  their  liberty ;  it  was  much  worse, 
out  of  the  Church,  for  the  laity.  Among  churchmen 
there  was  at  least  discussion,  deliberation,  the  display  of 
individual  faculties  ;  the  struggle,  itself,  supplied  in  some 
measure  the  place  of  liberty.  There  was  nothing,  how- 
ever, like  this  between  the  clergy  and  the  people.  The 
laity  had  no  further  share  in  the  government  of  the 
Church  than  as  simple  lookers-on.  Thus  we  see  quickly 
shoot  up  and  thrive,  the  idea  that  theology,  that  religious 
questions  and  affairs,  were  the  privileged  territory  of  the 
clergy ;  that  the  clergy  alone  had  the  right,  not  only  to 
decide  upon  all  matters  respecting  it,  but  likewise  that 
they  alone  had  the  right  to  study  it,  and  that  the  laity 
ought  not  to  intermeddle  with  it.  At  the  period  of  which 
we  are  now  speaking,  this  theory  had  fully  established  its 
authority,  and  it  has  required  ages,  and  revolutions  full  of 
terror,  to  overcome  it;  to  restore  to  the  public  the  right 
of  debating  religious  questions,  and  inquiring  into  their 
truths. 

In  principle,  then,  as  well  as  in  fact,  the  legal  separa- 


142  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

tion  of  the   clergy  and  the   laity  was  nearly  completed 
before  the  twelfth  century. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  understood,  that  the  Christian 
world  had  no  influence  upon  its  government  during  this 
period.  Of  legal  interference  it  was  destitute,  but  not  of 
influence.  It  is,  indeed,  almost  impossible  that  such 
should  be  the  case  under  any  kind  of  government,  and 
more  particularly  so  of  one  founded  upon  the  common 
opinions  and  belief  of  the  governing  and  governed.  For, 
wherever  this  community  of  ideas  springs  up  and  expands, 
wherever  the  same  intellectual  movement  carries  onward 
for  government  and  the  people,  there  necessarily  becomes 
formed  between  them  a  tie,  which  no  vice  in  their  organ- 
ization can  ever  altogether  break.  To  make  you  clearly 
understand  what  I  mean,  I  will  give  you  an  example, 
familiar  to  us  all,  taken  from  the  political  world.  At  no 
period  in  the  history  of  France  had  the  French  nation 
less  power  of  a  legal  nature,  I  mean  by  way  of  institu- 
tions, of  interfering  in  the  government,  than  in  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries,  during  the  reigns  of 
Louis  XIV.  and  XV.  All  the  direct  and  official  means  by 
which  the  people  could  exercise  any  authority  had  been 
cut  ofl'and  suppressed.  Yet  there  cannot  be  a  doubt  but 
that  the  public,  the  country,  exercised,  at  this  time,  more 
influence  upon  the  government  than  at  any  other,  more, 
for  example,  than  when  the  states-general  had  been  fre- 
quently convoked  ;  than  when  the  parliaments  intermed- 
dled to  a  considerable  extent  in  politics,  than  when  the 
people  had  a  much  greater  legal  participation  in  the  gov- 
ernment. 

It  must  have  been  observed  by  all  that  there  exists  a 
power  which  no  law  can  comprise  or  suppress,  and  which, 
in  times  of  need,  goes  even  further  than  institutions.  Call 
it  the  spirit  of  the  age,  public  intelligence,  opinion,  or 
what  you  will,  you  cannot  doubt  its  existence.    In  France, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  143 

during  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  this  pub- 
lic opinion  was  more  pov\'erful  than  at  any  other  epoch ; 
and,  though  it  was  deprived  of  the  legal  means  of  acting 
upon  the  government,  yet  it  acted  indirectly,  by  the  force 
of  ideas  common  to  the  governing  and  the  governed,  by 
the  absolute  necessity  under  which  the  governing  found 
themselves  of  attending  to  the  opinions  of  the  governed. 
What  took  place  in  the  Church  from  the  fifth  to  the 
twelfth  century  was  very  similar  to  this.  The  body  of 
the  Christian  world,  it  is  true,  had  no  legal  means  of  ex- 
pressing its  desires  ;  but  there  was  a  great  advancement 
of  mind  in  religious  matters :  this  movement  bore  along 
clergy  and  laity  together,  and  in  this  way  the  people  acted 
upon  the  Church. 

It  is  of  the  greatest  importance  that  these  indirect  in- 
fluences should  be  kept  in  view  in  the  study  of  history. 
They  are  much  more  efficacious,  and  often  more  salutary, 
than  we  take  them  to  be.  It  is  very  natural  that  men 
should  wish  their  influence  to  be  prompt  and  apparent : 
that  they  should  covet  the  credit  of  promoting  success,  of 
establishing  power,  of  procuring  triumph.  But  this  is  not 
always  either  possible  or  useful.  There  are  times  and 
situations  w^hen  the  indirect,  unperceived  influence  is  more 
beneflcial,  more  practicable.  Let  me  borrow  another 
illustration  from  politics.  We  know  that  the  English 
parliament  more  than  once,  and  particularly  in  1641,  de- 
manded, as  many  other  popular  assemblies  have  done  in 
such  cases,  the  power  to  nominate  the  ministers  and  great 
officers  of  the  cro\vn.  The  immense  direct  force  which 
by  this  means  it  Avould  exercise  upon  the  government  was 
regarded  as  a  precious  guarantee.  But  how  has  it  turned 
out  1  Why,  in  the  few  cases  in  which  it  has  been  permit- 
ted to  possess  this  power,  the  result  has  been  always  un- 
favourable. The  choice  has  been  badly  concerted  j  affairs 
badly  conducted.     But  what  is  the   case  in  the  present 


144.  GExNERAL    HISTORY    OF 

day  1  Is  it  not  the  influence  of  the  two  houses  of  par- 
liament which  determines  the  choice  of  ministers,  and 
the  nomination  to  all  the  great  offices  of  state  \  And, 
though  this  influence  be  indirect  and  general,  it  is  found 
to  work  better  than  the  direct  interference  of  parliament, 
which  has  always  terminated  badly. 

There  is  one  reason  why  this  should  be  so,  which  I 
must  beg  leave  to  lay  before  yon,  at  the  expense  of  a  few 
minutes  of  your  time.  The  direct  action  upon  govern- 
ment supposes  those  to  whom  it  is  confided  possessed  of 
superior  talents — of  superior  information,  understanding, 
and  prudence.  As  they  go  to  the  object  at  once,  and  per 
saltern  as  it  were,  they  must  be  sure  not  to  miss  their  mark. 
Indirect  influences,  on  the  contrary,  pursuing  a  tortuous 
course — only  arriving  at  their  object  through  numerous 
difficulties — become  rectified  and  adapted  to  their  end  by 
the  very  obstacles  they  have  to  encounter.  Before  they 
can  succeed,  they  must  undergo  discussion,  be  combated 
and  controlled ;  their  triumph  is  slow,  conditional,  and 
partial.  It  is  on  this  account  that  where  society  is  not 
sufficiently  advanced  to  make  it  prudent  to  place  immedi- 
ate power  in  the  hands  of  the  people,  these  indirect  influ- 
ences, though  often  insufficient,  are  nevertheless  to  be 
preferred.  It  was  by  such  that  the  Christian  world  acted 
upon  its  government ; — acted,  I  must  allow,  very  inade- 
quately— by  far  too  little  ;  but  still  it  is  something  that  it 
acted  at  all. 

There  was  another  thing  which  strengthened  the  tie 
between  the  clergy  and  laity.  This  was  the  dispersion 
of  the  clergy  into  every  part  of  the  social  system.  In 
almost  all  other  cases,  where  a  church  has  been  formed 
independent  of  the  people  whom  it  governed,  the  body  of 
priests  has  been  composed  of  men  in  nearly  the  same 
condition  of  life.  I  do  not  mean  that  the  inequalities  of 
rank  were  not  sufficiently  great  among  them,  but  that  the 


v^IVILIZATION    in   modern   EtJROPE.  145 

power  was  lodged  in  the  hands  of  colleges  of  priests  living 
in  common,  and  governing  the  people  submitted  to  their 
laws,  from  the  innermost  recess  of  some  sacred  temple. 
The  organization  of  the  Christian  Church  was  widely  dif- 
ferent. From  the  thatched  cottage  of  the  husbandman — 
from  the  miserable  hut  of  the  serf  at  the  foot  of  the  feu- 
dal chateau  to  the  palace  of  the  monarch — there  was 
everywhere  a  clergyman.  This  diversity  in  the  situation 
of  the  Christian  priesthood,  their  participation  in  all  the 
varied  fortunes  of  humanity — of  common  life — was  a 
great  bond  of  union  between  the  laity  and  clergy  ;  a  bond 
which  has  been  wanting  in  most  other  hierarchies  invested 
with  power.  Besides  this,  the  bishops,  the  heads  of  the 
Christian  clergy,  were,  as  we  have  seen,  mixed  up  with 
the  feudal  system  :  they  were,  at  the  same  time,  members 
of  the  civil  and  of  the  ecclesiastical  governments.  This 
naturally  led  to  similarity  of  feeling,  of  interests,  of  hab- 
its, and  of  manners,  in  the  clergy  and  laity.  There  has 
been  a  good  deal  said,  and  with  reason,  of  military  bishops, 
of  priests  who  led  secular  lives ;  but  we  may  be  assured 
that  this  evil,  however  great,  was  not  so  hurtful  as  the 
system  which  kept  priests  for  ever  locked  up  in  a  temple, 
altogether  separated  from  common  life.  Bishops  who 
took  a  share  in  the  cares,  and,  up  to  a  certain  point,  in 
the  disorders  of  civil  life,  were  of  more  use  in  society 
than  those  who  were  altogether  strangers  to  the  people, 
to  their  wants,  their  affairs,  and  their  manners.  In  our 
system  there  has  been,  in  this  respect,  a  similarity  of  for- 
tune, of  condition,  which,  if  it  have  not  altogether  cor- 
rected, has,  at  least,  softened  the  evil  which  the  separa- 
tion of  the  governing  and  governed  must  in  all  cases 
prove. 

Now,  having  pointed  out  this  separation,  having  endeav- 
oured to  determine  its  extent,  let  us  see  how  the  Christian 
Church  governed — let  us  see  in  what  way  it  acted  upon 
the  people  under  its  authority. 


146  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

What  did  it  do,  on  one  hand,  for  the  development  of 
man,  for  the  intellectual  progress  of  the  individual  1 

What  did  it  do,  on  the  other,  for  the  melioration  of  the 
social  system  1 

With  regard  to  individual  development,  I  fear  the  Church, 
at  this  epoch,  gave  herself  but  little  trouble  about  it.  She 
endeavoured  to  soften  the  rugged  manners  of  the  great, 
and  to  render  them  more  kind  and  just  in  their  conduct 
towards  the  vi'^eak.  She  endeavoured  to  inculcate  a  life 
of  morality  among  the  poor,  and  to  inspire  them  with 
higher  sentiments  and  hopes  than  the  lot  in  which  they 
were  cast  would  give  rise  to.  I  believe  not,  however, 
that  for  individual  man — for  the  drawing  forth  or  advance- 
ment of  his  capacities — that  the  Church  did  much,  espe- 
cially for  the  laity,  during  this  period.  What  she  did  in 
this  way  was  confined  to  the  bosom  of  her  own  society. 
For  the  development  of  the  clergy,  for  the  instruction  of 
the  priesthood,  she  was  anxiously  alive  :  to  promote  this 
she  had  her  schools,  her  colleges,  and  all  other  institu- 
tions which  the  deplorable  state  of  society  would  permit. 
These  schools  and  colleges,  it  is  true,  were  all  theologi- 
cal, and  destined  for  the  education  of  the  clergy  alone  ; 
and  though,  from  the  intimacy  between  the  civil  and  reli- 
gious orders,  they  could  not  but  have  some  influence  upon 
the  rest  of  the  world,  it  was  very  slow  and  indirect.  It 
cannot,  indeed,  be  denied  but  the  Church,  too,  necessari- 
ly excited  and  kept  alive  a  general  activity  of  mind,  by 
the  career  which  she  opened  to  all  those  whom  she  judged 
worthy  to  enlist  into  her  ranks,  but  beyond  this  she  did 
little  for  the  intellectual  improvement  of  the  laity. 

For  the  melioration  of  the  social  state,  her  labours  were 
greater  and  more  efficacious.  She  combated  with  much 
perseverance  and  pertinacity  the  great  vices  of  the  social 
condition,  particularly  slavery.  It  has  been  frequently 
asserted  that  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  modern  world 
must  be  altogether  carried  to  the  credit  of  Christianity.  I 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  147 

believe  this  is  going  too  far :  slavery  subsisted  for  a  long 
time  in  the  bosom  of  Christian  society  without  much  notice 
being  taken  of  it — without  any  great  outcry  against  it.  To 
effect  its  abolition  required  the  co-operation  of  several 
causes — a  great  development  of  new  ideas,  of  new  prin- 
ciples of  civilization.  It  cannot,  however,  be  denied  that 
the  Church  employed  its  influence  to  restrain  it  ,•  the  cler- 
gy in  general,  and  especially  several  popes,  enforced  the 
manumission  of  their  slaves  as  a  duty  incumbent* upon 
laymen,  and  loudly  inveighed  against  the  scandal  of  keep- 
ing Christians  in  bondage.  Again,  the  greater  part  of  the 
forms  by  which  slaves  were  set  free,  at  various  epochs, 
are  founded  upon  religious  motives.  It  is  under  the  im- 
pression of  some  religious  feeling — the  hopes  of  the 
future,  the  equality  of  all  Christian  men,  and  so  on — that 
the  freedom  of  the  slave  is  granted.  These,  it  must  be 
confessed,  are  rather  convincing  proofs  of  the  influence 
of  the  Church,  and  of  her  desire  for  the  abolition  of  this 
evil  of  evils,  this  iniquity  of  iniquities ! 

The  Church  did  not  labour  less  worthily  for  the  im- 
provement of  civil  and  criminal  legislation.  We  know  to 
what  a  terrible  extent,  notwithstanding  some  few  princi- 
ples of  liberty,  this  was  absurd  and  wretched  ;  we  have 
read  of  the  irrational  and  superstitious  proofs  to  which 
the  barbarians  occasionally  had  recourse — their  trial  by 
battle,  their  ordeals,  their  oaths  of  compurgation — as  the 
only  means  by  which  they  could  discover  the  truth.  To 
replace  these  by  more  rational  and  legitimate  proceedings, 
the  Church  earnestly  laboured,  and  laboured  not  in  vain. 
I  have  already  spoken  of  the  striking  difference  between 
the  laws  of  the  Visigoths,  mostly  promulgated  by  the 
councils  of  Toledo,  and  the  codes  of  the  barbarians.  It 
is  impossible  to  compare  them  without  at  once  admitting 
the  immense  superiority  of  the  notions  of  the  Church  in 
matters  of  jurisprudence,  justice,  and   legislation — in  all 


148  GENERAL    HISTORY    OP 

relating  to  the  discovery  of  truth,  and  a  knowledge  of 
human  nature.  It  must  certainly  be  admitted  that  the 
greater  part  of  these  notions  Avere  borrowed  from  Roman 
legislation  ;  but  it  is  not  less  certain  that  they  would  have 
perished  if  the  Church  had  not  preserved  and  defended 
them — if  she  had  not  laboured  to  spread  them  abroad.  If 
the  question,  for  example,  is  respecting  the  employment 
of  oaths,  open  the  laws  of  the  Visigoths,  and  see  with 
what  prudence  it  controls  their  use : — 

Let  the  judge,  in  order  to  come  at  the  truth,  first  interrogate  the  wit- 
nesses, then  examine  the  papers,  and  not  allow  of  oaths  too  easily.  The 
investigation  of  truth  and  justice  demands,  that  the  documents  on  botb 
sides  should  be  carefully  examined,  and  that  ihe  necessity  of  the  oath, 
suspended  over  the  head  of  both  parties,  should  only  CQpie  unexpectedly. 
Let  the  oath  only  be  adopted  in  causes  in  which  the  jud^e  shall  be  able  to 
discover  no  written  documents,  no  proof,  nor  guide  to  the  truth. 

In  criminal  matters,  the  punishment  is  proportioned  to 
the  offence,  according  to  tolerably  correct  notions  of  phi- 
losophy, morals,  and  justice.  The  efforts  of  an  enlight- 
ened legislator  struggling  against  the  violence  and  caprice 
of  barbarian  manners.  The  title  of  ccsde  et  morte  homi- 
num  gives  us  a  very  favourable  example  of  this,  when 
compared  with  the  corresponding  laws  of  the  other  na- 
tions. Among  the  latter,  it  is  the  damage  alone  which 
seems  to  constitute  the  crime ;  and  the  punishment  is 
sought  for  in  the  pecuniary  reparation  which  is  made  in 
compounding  for  it ;  but  in  the  code  of  the  Visigoths  the 
crime  is  traced  to  its  true  and  moral  principle — the  inten- 
tion of  the  perpetrator.  Various  shades  of  guilt — invol- 
untary homicide,  chance-medley  homicide,  justifiable 
homicide,  unpremeditated  homicide,  and  wilful  murder — 
are  distinguished  and  defined  nearly  as  accurately  as  in 
our  modern  codes  ;  the  punishments  likewise  varying,  so 
as  to  make  a  fair  approximation  to  justice.  The  legis- 
lator, indeed,  carried  the  principle  of  justice  still  further. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  149 

He  endeavoured,  if  not  to  abolish,  at  least  to  lessen,  that 
difference  of  legal  value,  which  the  other  barbarian  laws 
put  upon  the  life  of  man.  The  only  distinction  here  made 
was  between  the  freeman  and  the  slave.  With  regard  to 
the  freeman,  the  punishment  did  not  vary  either  accord- 
ing to  the  perpetrator,  nor  according  to  the  rank  of  the 
slain,  but  only  according  to  the  moral  guilt  of  the  mur- 
derer. With  regard  to  slaves,  not  daring  entirely  to  de- 
prive masters  of  the  right  of  life  and  death,  he  at  least 
endeavoured  to  restrain  it  and  destroy  its  brutal  character 
by  subjecting  it  to  an  open  and  regular  procedure. 

The  law  itself  is  worthy   of  attention,  and  I  therefore 
shall  give  it  at  length  : — 

"  If  no  one  who  is  culpable,  or  the  accomplice  in  a  crime  ought  to  go  un- 
punished, how  much  more  reasonable  is  ii  that  those  should  be  restrained 
who  commit  homicide  maliciously,  or  from  a  slight  cause!  Thus,  as 
masters  in  their  pride  often  put  their  slaves  to  death  without  any  cause, 
it  is  proper  to  extirpate  altogether  this  license,  and  to  decree  that  the  pre- 
sent law  shall  be  forever  binding  upon  all.  No  master  or  mistress  shall 
have  power  to  put  to  death  any  of  their  slaves,  male  or  female,  or  any  of 
their  dependents,  without  public  judgment.  If  any  slave,  or  other  ser- 
vant, commits  a  crime  which  renders  them  subject  to  capital  punishment, 
his  master  or  his  accuser  shall  immediately  give  information  to  the  judge, 
or  count,  or  duke,  of  the  place  in  which  the  crime  has  been  perpetrated. 
After  the  matter  has  been  tried,  if  the  crime  is  proved,  let  the  criminal 
receive  either  by  the  judge  or  by  his  own  master,  the  sentence  of  death 
which  he  has  merited  ;  in  such  manner,  however,  that  if  the  judge  desires 
not  to  put  the  accused  to  death,  he  must^draw  up  against  him  in  writing, 
a  capital  sentence,  and  then  it  will  remain  with  his  master  to  kill  him  or 
grant  him  his  life.  But  when,  indeed,  a  slave,  by  a  fatal  audacity,  in 
resisting  his  master,  shall  strike,  or  attempt  to  strike  him  wiih  his  arm, 
with  a  stone,  or  by  any  other  means;  and  the  master,  in  defending  him- 
self, kills  the  slave  in  his  anger,  the  master  shall  in  nowise  be  liable  to  the 
punishment  of  homicide.  But  it  will  be  necessary  to  prove  that  the  fact 
has  so  happened  ;  and  that  by  the  testimony  or  oath  of  the  slaves,  mala 
or  female,  who  witnessed  it,  and  also  by  the  oath  of  the  person  himself 
who  committed  the  deed.  Whosoever  from  pure  malice  shall  kill  a  slave 
himself,  or  employ  another  to  do  so,  without  his  having  been  publicly 
tried,  shall  be  considered  infamous,  shall  be  declared  incapable  of  giving 
evidence,  shall  be  banished  for  life,  and  his  property  be  given  to  his  near- 
«9t  heirs."— (/^or.  Jud.  L.  VI.  tit.  V.,  1.  12.) 

13* 


150  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

There  is  another  circumstance  connected  with  the  in- 
stitutions of  the  Church,  which  has  not,  in  general,  been 
so  much  noticed  as  it  deserves.  I  allude  to  its  peniten- 
tiary system,  which  is  the  more  interesting  in  the  present 
day,  because,  so  far  as  the  principles  and  applications  of 
moral  law  are  concerned,  it  is  almost  completely  in  uni- 
son with  the  notions  of  modern  philosophy.  If  we  look 
closely  into  the  nature  of  the  punishments  inflicted  by  the 
Church  at  public  penance,  which  was  its  principal  mode 
of  punishing,  we  shall  find  that  their  object  was,  above  all 
other  things,  to  excite  repentance  in  the  soul  of  the 
guilty ;  in  that  of  the  lookers  on,  the  moral  terror  of  ex- 
ample. But  there  is  another  idea  which  mixes  itself  up 
with  this — the  idea  of  expiation.  I  know  not,  generally 
speaking,  whether  it  be  possible  to  separate  the  idea  of 
punishment  from  that  of  expiation  ;  and  whether  there  be 
not  in  all  punishment,  independently  of  the  desire  to  awa- 
ken the  guilty  to  repentance,  and  to  deter  those  from  vice 
who  might  be  under  temptation,  a  secret  and  imperious 
desire  to  expiate  the  wrong  committed.  Putting  this 
question,  however,  aside,  it  is  sufficiently  evident  that 
repentance  and  example  were  the  objects  proposed  by  the 
Church  in  every  part  of  its  system  of  penance.  And  is 
not  the  attainment  of  these  very  objects  the  end  of  every 
truly  philosophical  legislation  1  Is  it  not  for  the  sake  of 
these  very  principles  that  the  most  enlightened  lawyers 
have  clamoured  for  a  reform  in  the  penal  legislation  of 
Europe  '?  Open  their  books — those  of  Jeremy  Bentham 
for  example — and  you  w411  be  astonished  at  the  numerous 
resemblances  which  you  will  everywhere  find  between 
their  plans  of  punishment  and  those  adopted  by  the  Church. 
We  may  be  quite  sure  that  they  have  not  borrowed  them 
from  her  ;  and  the  Church  could  scarcely  foresee  that  her 
example  would  one  day  be  quoted  in  support  of  the  sys* 
tern  of  philosophers  not  very  remarkable  for  their  devotion  . 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  151 

Finallj^,  she  endeavoured  by  every  means  in  her  power 
to  suppress  the  frequent  recourse  which  at  this  period  was 
had  to  violence,  and  the  continual  wars  to  which  society 
was  so  prone.  It  is  well  known  what  the  truce  of  God 
was,  as  well  as  a  number  of  other  similar  measures  by 
which  the  Church  hoped  to  prevent  the  employment  of 
physical  force,  and  to  introduce  into  the  social  system 
more  order  and  gentleness.  The  facts  under  this  head 
are  so  well  known,  that  I  shall  not  go  into  any  detail  con- 
cerning them. 

Having  now  run  over  the  principal  points  to  which  I 
wished  to  draw  attention  respecting  the  relations  of  the 
Church  ta  the  people  ;  having  now  considered  it  under  the 
three  aspects,  which  I  proposed  to  do,  we  know  it  within 
and  without ;  in  its  interior  constitution,  and  in  its  twofold 
relations  w4th  society.  It  remains  for  us  to  deduce  from 
what  we  have  learned,  by  way  of  inference,  by  way  of  con- 
jecture, its  general  influence  upon  European  civilization. 
This  is  almost  done  to  our  hands.  The  simple  recital  of 
the  facts  of  the  predominant  principles  of  the  Church,  both 
reveals  and  explains  its  influence :  the  results  have  in  a 
manner  been  brought  before  us  with  the  causes.  If,  how- 
ever, we  endeavour  to  sura  them  up,  we  shall  be  led,  I 
think,  to  two  general  conclusions. 

The  first  is,  that  the  Church  has  exercised  a  vast  and 
important  influence  upon  the  moral  and  intellectual  order 
of  Europe  ;  upon  the  notions,  sentiments,  and  manners  of 
society.  This  fact  is  evident ;  the  intellectual  and  moral 
progress  of  Europe  has  been  essentially  theological.  Look 
at  its  history  from  the  fifth  to  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
you  will  find  throughout,  that  theology  has  possessed  and 
directed  the  human  mind ;  every  idea  is  impressed  with 
theology ;  every  question  that  has  been  started,  w^hether 
philosophical,  political,  or  historical,  has  been  considered 
in  a  religious  point  of  view.     So  powerful,    indeed,  has 


152  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

been  the  authority  of  the  Church  in  matters  of  intellect, 
that  even  the  mathematical  and  physical  sciences  have 
been  obliged  to  submit  to  its  doctrines.  The  spirit  of 
theology  has  been  as  it  were  the  blood  which  has  circu- 
lated in  the  veins  of  the  European  world  down  to  the  time 
of  Bacon  and  Descartes.  Bacon  in  England,  and  Des- 
cartes in  France,  were  the  first  who  carried  the  human 
mind  out  of  the  pale  of  theology. 

We  shall  find  the  same  fact  hold  if  we  travel  through 
the  regions  of  literature  :  the  habits,  the  sentiments,  the 
language  of  theology  there  show  themselves  at  every  step. 

This  influence,  taken  altogether,  has  been  salutary.  It 
not  only  kept  up  and  ministered  to  the  intellectual  move- 
ment in  Europe,  but  the  system  of  doctrines  and  precepts, 
by  whose  authority  it  stamped  its  impress  upon  that  move- 
ment, was  incalculably  superior  to  any  which  the  ancient 
world  had  known. 

The  influence  of  the  Church,  moreover,  has  given  to  the 
development  of  the  human  mind,  in  our  modern  world,  aa 
extent  and  variety  which  it  never  possessed  elsewhere. 
In  the  East,  intelligence  was  altogether  religious  :  among 
the  Greeks,  it  was  almost  exclusively  human  :  there  human 
culture — humanitj^,  properly  so  called,  its  nature  and  des- 
tiny— actually  disappeared  j  here  it  was  man  alone,  his 
passions,  his  feelings,  his  present  interests,  which  occupied 
the  field.  In  our  world  the  spirit  of  religion  mixes  itself 
with  all  but  excludes  nothing.  Human  feelings,  human 
interests,  occupy  a  considerable  space  in  every  branch  of 
our  literature  ;  yet  the  religious  character  of  man,  that 
portion  of  his  being  which  connects  him  with  another 
world,  appear,  at  every  turn,  in  them  all.  Could  modern 
intelligence  assume  a  visible  shape,  we  should  recognise 
at  once,  in  its  mixed  character,  the  finger  of  man  and  the 
finger  of  God.  Thus  the  two  great  sources  of  human  de- 
velopment, humanity  and  religion,  have  been  open  at  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  153 

same  time  and  flowed  in  plenteous  streams.  Notwith- 
standing all  the  evil,  all  the  abuses,  which  may  have  crept 
into  the  Church — notwithstanding  ail  the  acts  of  tyranny 
of  which  she  has  been  guilty,  we  must  still  acknowledge 
her  influence  upon  the  progress  and  culture  of  the  human 
intellect  to  have  been  beneficial ;  that  she  has  assisted  in 
its  development  rather  than  its  compression,  in  its  exten- 
sion rather  than  its  confinement. 

The  case  is  widely  diflerent,  when  we  look  at  the  Church 
in  a  political  point  of  view.  By  softening  the  rugged 
manners  and  sentiments  of  the  people  ;  by  raising  her  voice 
against  a  great  number  of  practical  barbarisms,  and  doing 
what  she  could  to  expel  them,  there  is  no  doubt  but  the 
Church  largely  contributed  to  the  melioration  of  the  so- 
cial condition ;  but  with  regard  to  politics,  properly  so 
called,  with  regard  to  all  that  concerns  the  relations  be- 
tween the  governing  and  the  governed — between  powder 
and  liberty — I  cannot  conceal  my  opinion,  that  its  influ- 
ence has  been  baneful.  In  this  respect  the  Church  has  al- 
ways shown  herself  as  the  interpreter  and  defender  of  two 
systems,  equally  vicious,  that  is,  of  theocracy,  and  of  the 
imperial  tyranny  of  the  Roman  empire — that  is  to  say,  of 
despotism,  both  religious  and  civil.  Examine  all  its  in- 
stitutions, all  its  laws;  peruse  its  canons,  look  at  its  pro- 
cedure, and  you  will  everywhere  find  the  maxims  of  the- 
ocracy or  the  Empire  to  predominate.  In  her  weakness, 
the  Church  sheltered  herself  under  the  absolute  power  of 
the  Roman  Emperors ;  in  her  strength  she  laid  claim  to  it 
herself  under  the  name  of  spiritual  power.  We  must  not 
here  confine  ourselves  to  a  few  particular  facts.  The 
Church  has  often,  no  doubt,  set  up  and  defended  the  rights 
of  the  people  against  the  bad  government  of  their  rulers  ; 
often,  indeed,  has  she  approved  and  excited  insurrection  ; 
often  too  has  she  maintained  the  rights  and  interests  of 
the  people  in  the  presence  of  their  sovereigns.     But  when 


154  GENERAL    HISTORY   OF 

the  question  of  political  securities  came  into  debate  be- 
tween power  and  liberty  ;  when  any  step  was  taken  to 
establish  a  system  of  permanent  institutions,  which  might 
effectually  protect  liberty  from  the  invasions  of  power  in 
general ;  the  Church  always  ranged  herself  on  the  side  of 
despotism. 

This  should  not  astonish  us,  neither  should  we  be  too 
ready  to  attribute  it  to  any  particular  failing  in  the  clergy, 
or  to  any  particular  vice  in  the  Church.  There  is  a  more 
profound  and  powerful  cause. 

What  is  the  object  of  religion'?  of  any  religion,  true  or 
false  1  It  is  to  govern  the  human  passions,  the  human 
will.  All  religion  is  a  restraint,  an  authority,  a  govern- 
ment. It  comes  in  the  name  of  a  divine  law,  to  subdue, 
to  mortify  human  nature.  It  is  then  to  human  liberty  that 
it  directly  opposes  itself.  It  is  human  liberty  that  resists 
it,  and  that  it  wishes  to  overcome.  This  is  the  grand  ob« 
ject  of  religion,  its  mission,  its  hope. 

But  while  it  is  with  human  liberty  that  all  religions 
have  to  contend,  while  they  aspire  to  reform  the  will  of 
man,  they  have  no  means  by  which  they  can  act  upon  him 
— they  have  no  moral  power  over  him,  but  through  his 
own  will,  his  liberty.  When  they  make  use  of  exterior 
means,  when  they  resort  to  force,  to  seduction — in  short, 
make  use  of  means  opposed  to  the  free  consent  of  man, 
they  treat  him  as  v/e  treat  water,  wind,  or  any  power  en- 
tirely physical:  they  fail  in  their  object ;  they  attain  not 
their  end  ;  they  do  not  reach,  they  cannot  govern  the 
will.  Before  religions  can  really  accomplish  their  task, 
it  is  necessary  that  they  should  be  accepted  by  the  free 
will  of  man  :  it  is  necessary  that  man  should  submit,  but 
it  must  be  willingly  and  freely,  and  that  he  still  preserves 
his  liberty  in  the  midst  of  this  submission.  It  is  in  this 
that  resides  the  double  problem  which  religions  are  called 
upon  to  resolve. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUBOPE.  155 

They  have  too  often  mistaken  their  object.  They  have 
regarded  liberty  as  an  obstacle,  and  not  as  a  means  5  they 
have  forgotten  the  nature  of  the  power  to  which  they 
address  themselves,  and  have  conducted  themselves 
towards  the  human  soul  as  they  would  towards  a  material 
force.  It  is  this  error  that  has  led  them  to  range  them- 
selves on  the  side  of  power,  on  the  side  of  despotism, 
against  human  liberty ;  regarding  it  as  an  adversary,  they 
have  endeavoured  to  subjugate  rather  than  to  protect  it. 
Had  religions  but  fairly  considered  their  means  of  opera- 
tion, had  they  not  suffered  themselves  to  be  draA\Ti  away 
by  a  natural  but  deceitful  bias,  they  would  have  seen  that 
liberty  is  a  condition,  without  which  man  cannot  be  morally 
governed  ;  that  religion  neither  has  nor  ought  to  have  any 
means  of  influence  not  strictly  moral :  they  would  have 
respected  the  will  of  man  in  their  attempt  to  govern  it. 
They  have  too  often  forgotten  this,  and  the  issue  has  been 
that  religious  power  and  liberty  have  suffered  together. 

I  will  not  push  further  this  investigation  of  the  general 
consequences  that  have  followed  the  influence  of  the 
Church  upon  European  civilization.  I  have  summed 
them  up  in  this  double  result, — a  great  and  salutary  influ- 
ence upon  its  moral  and  intellectual  condition ;  an  influence 
rather  hurtful  than  beneficial  to  its  political  condition.  We 
have  now  to  try  our  assertions  by  facts,  to  verify  by  his- 
tory what  we  have  as  yet  only  deduced  from  the  nature 
and  situation  of  ecclesiastical  society.  Let  us  now  see 
what  was  the  destiny  of  the  Christian  Church  from  the  fifth 
to  the  twelfth  century,  and  whether  the  principles  which 
I  have  laid  down,  the  results  which  I  have  endeavoured  to 
draw  from  them,  have  really  been  such  as  I  have  repre- 
sented them. 

Let  me  caution  you,  however,  against  supposing  that 
these  principles,  these  results,  appeared  all  at  once,  and 
as  clearly  as  they  are  here  set  forth  by  me.    We  are  apt  to 


156  GENERAL    HISTORY    OP 

fall  into  the  great  and  common  error,  in  looking  at  the  past 
through  centuries  of  distance,  of  forgetting  moral  chro- 
nology j  we  are  apt  to  forget — extraordinary  forgetfulness ! 
that  history  is  essentially  successive.  Take  the  life  of  any 
man — of  Oliver  Cromwell,  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  of  Gus- 
tavus  Adolphus.  He  enters  upon  his  career ;  he  pushes 
forward  in  life,  and  rises :  great  circumstances  act  upon 
him  ;  he  acts  upon  great  circumstances.  He  arrives  at  the 
end  of  all  things — and  then  it  is  we  know  him.  But  it  is 
in  his  whole  character ;  it  is  as  a  complete,  a  finished 
piece  ;  such  in  a  manner  as  he  is  turned  out,  after  a  long 
labour,  from  the  workshop  of  Providence.  Now  at  his 
outset  he  was  not  what  he  thus  became  ;  he  was  not  com- 
plete d — not  finished  at  any  single  moment  of  his  life  ;  he 
was  formed  successively.  Men  are  formed  morally  in  the 
same  way  as  they  are  physically.  They  change  every  day. 
Their  existence  is  constantly  undergoing  some  modifica- 
tion. The  Cromwell  of  1650  was  not  the  Cromwell  of 
1640.  It  is  true,  there  is  always  a  large  stock  of  individ- 
uality ;  the  same  man  still  holds  on ;  but  how  many  ideas, 
how  many  sentiments,  how  many  inclinations  have  changed 
in  him!  What  a  number  of  things  he  has  lost  and 
acquired  !  Thus  at  whatever  moment  of  his  life  we  may 
look  at  a  man,  he  .is  never  such  as  we  see  him  when  his 
course  is  finished. 

This,  nevertheless,  is  an  error  into  which  a  great  number 
of  historians  have  fallen.  When  they  have  acquired  a 
complete  idea  of  a  man,  have  settled  his  character,  they 
see  him  in  this  same  character  throughout  his  whole  career. 
With  them,  it  is  the  same  Cromwell  who  enters  parliament 
in  1628,  and  who  dies  in  the  palace  of  White-Hall  thirty 
years  afterwards.  Just  such  mistakes  as  these  we  are 
very  apt  to  fall  into  with  regard  to  institutions  and  general 
influences.  I  caution  you  against  them.  I  have  laid 
down  in  their  complete  form,  as  a  whole,  the  principles  of 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  157 

the  Church  and  the  consequences  which  may  be  deduced 
from  them.  Be  assured,  however,  that  historically  this 
picture  is  not  true.  All  it  represents  has  taken  place 
disjointedly,  successively  j  has  been  scattered  here  and 
there  over  space  and  time.  Expect  not  to  find,  in  the 
recital  of  events,  a  similar  completeness  or  whole,  the 
same  prompt  and  systematic  concatenation.  One  princi- 
ple will  be  visible  here,  another  there ;  all  will  be  incom- 
plete, unequal,  dispersed ;  we  must  come  to  modern  times, 
to  the  end  of  its  career,  before  we  can  view  it  as  a 
whole. 

I  shall  now  lay  before  you  the  various  states  through 
which  the  Church  passed  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury. We  may  not  find,  perhaps,  the  complete  demon- 
stration of  the  statements  which  I  have  made,  but  we 
shall  see  enough,  I  apprehend,  to  convince  us  that  they 
are  founded  in  truth. 

The  first  state  in  which  we  see  the  Church  in  the  fifth 
century,  is  as  the  Church  imperial— the  Church  of  the 
Eoman  Empire.  Just  at  the  time  the  Empire  fell,  the 
Church  believed  she  had  attained  the  summit  of  her  hopes  : 
after  a  long  struggle  she  had  completely  vanquished  pa- 
ganism. Gratian,  the  last  emperor  who  assumed  the 
pagan  dignity  of  sovereign  pontiff,  died  at  the  close  of 
the  fourth  century.  The  Church  believed  herself  equally 
victorious  in  her  struggle  against  heretics,  particularly 
aorainst  Arianism,  the  principal  heresy  of  the  time.  The- 
odosius,  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  century,  put  them  down 
by  his  imperial  edicts  ;  and  had  the  double  merit  of  sub- 
duing the  Arian  heresy  and  abolishing  the  worship  of 
idols  throughout  the  Roman  world.  The  Church,  then, 
was  in  possession  of  the  government,  and  had  obtained 
the  victory  over  her  two  greatest  enemies.  It  was  at  this 
moment  that  the  Roman  Empire  failed  her,  and  she  stood 
in  the  presence  of  new  pagans,  of  new  heretics — in  the 

14 


158  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

presence  of  the  barbarians — of  Goths,  of  Vandals,  of 
Burgundians  and  Franks.  The  fall  was  immense.  You 
may  easily  imagine  that  an  affectionate  attachment  for  the 
Empire  was  for  a  long  time  preserved  in  the  Romish 
Church.  Hence  we  see  her  cherish  so  fondly  all  that 
was  left  of  it — municipal  government  and  absolute  pow- 
er. Hence,  when  she  had  succeeded  in  converting  the 
barbarians,  she  endeavoured  to  re-establish  the  Empire ; 
she  called  upon  the  barbarian  kings,  she  conjured  them 
to  become  Roman  emperors,  to  assume  the  privilege  of 
Roman  emperors  ;  to  enter  into  the  same  relations  with 
the  Church  which  had  existed  between  her  and  the  Ro- 
man Empire.  This  was  the  great  object  for  which  the 
bishops  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries  laboured.  Such 
was  the  general  state  of  the  Church. 

The  attempt  could  not  succeed — it  Avas  impossible  to 
make  a  Roman  Empire,  to  mould  a  Roman  society  out  of 
barbarians.  Like  the  civil  world,  the  Church  herself  sunk 
into  barbarism.  This  was  her  second  state.  Comparing 
the  writings  of  the  monkish  ecclesiastical  chroniclers  of 
the  eighth  century  with  those  of  the  preceding  six,  the 
difference  is  immense.  All  remains  of  Roman  civilization 
had  disappeared,  even  its  very  language — all  becarne 
buried  in  complete  barbarism.  On  one  side  the  rude  bar- 
barians, entering  into  the  Church,  became  bishops  and 
priests  ;  on  the  other,  the  bishops,  adopting  the  barbarian 
life,  became,  without  quitting  their  bishopricks,  chiefs  of 
bands  of  marauders,  and  wandered  over  the  country,  pil- 
laging and  destroying  like  so  many  companies  of  Clovis. 
Gregory  of  Tours  gives  an  account  of  several  bishops 
who  thus  passed  their  lives,  and  among  others  Salone  and 
Sagittarius. 

Two  important  facts  took  place  while  the  Church  con- 
tinued in  this  state  of  barbarism.  The  first  was  the  sep- 
aration of  the  spiritual  and  temporal  powers.'     Nothing 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  159 

could  be  more  natural  than  the  birth  of  this  principle  at 
this  epoch.  The  Church  would  have  restored  the  abso- 
lute power  of  the  Roman  Empire  that  she  might  partake 
of  it,  but  she  could  not ;  she  therefore  sought  her  safety 
in  independence.  It  became  necessary  that  she  should 
be  able  in  all  parts  to  defend  herself  by  her  own  power ; 
for  she  was  threatened  in  every  quarter.  Every  bishop, 
every  priest,  saw  the  rude  chiefs  in  their  neighbourhood 
interfering  in  the  affairs  of  the  Church,  that  they  might 
procure  a  slice  of  its  wealth,  its  territory,  its  power ;  and 
no  other  means  of  defence  seemed  left  but  to  say,  "  The 
spiritual  order  is  completely  separated  from  the  temporal ; 
you  have  no  right  to  interfere  with  it."  This  principle 
became,  at  every  point  of  attack,  the  defensive  armour  of 
the  Church  against  barbarism. 

A  second  important  fact  which  took  place  at  this  same 
period,  was  the  establishment  of  the  monastic  orders  in 
the  west.  It  w^as  at  the  commencement  of  the  sixth  cen- 
tury that  St.  Benedict  published  the  rules  of  his  order 
for  the  use  of  the  monks  of  the  west,  then  few  in  number, 
but  who  from  this  time  prodigiously  increased.  The 
monks  at  this  epoch  did  not  yet  belong  to  the  clerical 
body,  but  were  still  regarded  as  a  part  of  the  laity.  Priests 
and  even  bishops  were  sometimes  chosen  from  among 
them  ;  but  it  was  not  till  the  close  of  the  fifth  and  begin- 
ning of  the  sixth  century  that  monks  in  general  were  con- 
sidered as  belonging  to  the  clergy  properly  so  called. 
Priests  and  bishops  now  entered  the  cloister,  thinking  by 
so  doing  they  advanced  a  step  in  their  religious  life,  and 
increased  the  sanctity  of  their  office.  The  monastic  life 
thus  all  at  once  became  exceedingly  popular  throughout 
Europe.  The  monks  had  a  greater  power  over  the  imag- 
ination of  the  barbarians  than  the  secular  clergy.  The 
simple  bishop  and  priest  had  in  some  measure  lost  their 
hold  upon'the  minds  of  barbarians,  who  were  accustomed 


160  GExNERAL    HISTORY    OF 

to  see  them  every  day  ;  to  maltreat,  perhaps  to  pillage 
them.  It  Avas  a  more  important  matter  to  attack  a  mo- 
nastery, a  body  of  holy  men  congregated  in  a  holy  place. 
Monasteries,  therefore,  became  during  this  barbarous 
period  an  asylum  for  the  Church,  as  the  Church  was  for 
the  laity.  Pious  men  here  took  refuge,  as  others  in  the 
East  had  done  before  in  the  Thebias,  in  order  to  escape 
the  worldly  life  and  corruption  of  Constantinople. 

These,  then,  are  the  two  most  important  facts  in  the 
history  of  the  Church,  during  the  period  of  barbarism. 
First,  the  separation  of  the  spiritual  and  temporal  powers  ; 
and,  secondly,  the  introduction  and  establishment  of  the 
monastic  orders  in  the  West. 

Towards  the  end  of  this  period  of  barbarism,  a  fresh 
attempt  was  made  to  raise  up  a  new  Roman  empire — I 
allude  to  the  attempt  of  Charlemagne.  The  Church  and 
the  civil  sovereio-n  ao-ain  contracted  a  close  alliance.  The 
holy  see  was  full  of  docility  while  this  lasted,  and  greatly 
increased  its  power.  The  attempt,  however,  again  failed. 
The  empire  of  Charlemagne  was  broken  up  ;  but  the  ad- 
vantages which  the  see  of  Rome  derived  from  his  alliance 
were  great  and  permanent.  The  popes  henceforward 
were  decidedly  the  chiefs  of  the  Christian  world. 

Upon  the  death  of  Charlemagne,  another  period  of  un- 
settledness  and  confusion  followed.  The  Church,  together 
with  civil  society,  again  fell  into  a  chaos ;  again  with  civil 
society  she  arose,  and  with  it  entered  into  the  frame  of 
the  feudal  system.  This  was  the  third  state  of  the  Church. 
The  dissolution  of  the  empire  formed  by  Charlemagne, 
was  followed  by  nearly  the  same  results  in  the  Church  as 
in  civil  life  ;  all  unity  disappeared,  all  became  local,  partial, 
and  individual.  Now  began  a  struggle,  in  the  situation 
of  the  clergy,  such  as  had  scarcely  ever  before  been  seen  : 
it  was  the  struggle  of  the  feelings  and  interest  of  the 
possessor  of  the  fief,  with  the  feelings  and  interest  of  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  161 

priest.      The   chiefs    of  the  clergy  were  placed  in  this 
double  situation  ;  the  spirit  of  the  priest  and  of  the  tem- 
poral  baron  struggled   within    them   for  mastery.     The 
ecclesiastical  spirit  naturally  became  weakened  and  divi- 
ded by  this  process — it  was  no  longer  so  powerful,  so 
universal.     Individual  interest  began  to  prevail.     A  taste 
for  independence,  the  habits  of  the  feudal  life,  loosened 
the  ties   of  the  hierarchy.     In  this   state  of  things,   the 
Church  made  an  attempt  within  its  own  bosom  to  correct 
the  effects  of  this  general  break-up.     It  endeavoured  in 
several   parts  of  its  empire,  by  means  of  federation,  by 
common  assemblies  and  deliberations,  to  organize  national 
Churches.     It  is  during  this  period,   during  the   sway  of 
the  feudal   system,   that  we  meet  with  the   greatest  num- 
ber of  councils,  convocations,  and  ecclesiastical  assem- 
blies, as  well  provincial  as  national.    In  France  especially, 
this  endeavour  at  unity  appeared  to  be  followed  up  with 
much  spirit.     Hincmar,  archbishop  of  Rheims,  may  be 
considered  as  the  representative  of  this  idea.   He  laboured 
incessantly  to  organize  the  French  Church  ;  he  sought  out 
and  employed  every  means  of  correspondence  and  union 
which   he  thought   likely    to   introduce   into  the  Feudal 
Church  a  little  more  unity.     We   find  him  on  one  side 
maintaining  the  independence  of  the  Church  with  respect 
to  temporal  power,   on  the   other  its  independence  with 
respect  to  the  Roman  see  ;  it  was  he  who,  learning  that 
the  pope  wished  to   come  to  France,   and  threatened  to 
excommunicate  the  bishops,   said.   Si  excommunicaturus 
venerit,  excommunicatus  abibit. 

But  the  attempt  thus  to  organize  a  feudal  Church  suc- 
ceeded no  better  than  the  attempt  to  re-establish  the  im- 
perial one.  There  were  no  means  of  re-producing  any 
degree  of  unity  among  its  members ;  it  tended  more  and 
more  towards  dissolution.  Each  bishop,  each  prelate, 
each  abbot,  isolated  himself  more  and  more  in  his  diocess 


162  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

or  monastery.  Abuses  and  disorders  increased  from  the 
same  cause.  At  no  time  was  the  crime  of  simony  carried 
to  a  greater  extent — at  no  time  was  ecclesiastical  benefi- 
ces disposed  of  in  a  more  arbitrary  manner — never  were 
the  morals  of  the  clergy  more  loose  and  disorderly. 

Both  the  people  and  the  better  portion  of  the  clergy 
were  greatly  scandalized  at  this  sad  state  of  things  ;  and 
a  desire  for  reform  in  the  Church  soon  began  to  show 
itself — a  desire  to  find  some  authority  round  which  it 
might  rally  its  better  principles,  and  which  might  impose 
some  wholesome  restraints  on  the  others.  Several  bish- 
ops— Claude  of  Turin,  Agobard  of  Lyons,  &c. — in  their 
respective  diocesses  attempted  this,  but  in  vain  ;  they  were 
not  in  a  condition  to  accomplish  so  vast  a  work.  In  the 
whole  Church  there  was  onlj^  one  power  that  could  suc- 
ceed in  this,  and  that  v.^as  the  Roman  See  ;  nor  was  that 
power  slow  in  assuming  the  position  which  it  wished  to 
attain.  In  the  course  of  the  eleventh  century,  the  Church 
entered  upon  its  fourth  state — that  of  a  theocracy  sup- 
ported by  monastic  institutions. 

The  person  who  raised  the  Holy  See  to  this  power,  so 
far  as  it  can  be  considered  the  work  of  an  individual,  was 
Gregory  VII. 

It  has  been  the  custom  to  represent  this  great  pontiff  as 
an  enemy  to  all  improvement,  as  opposed  to  intellectual 
development,  to  the  progress  of  society  5  as  a  man  whose 
desire  was  to  keep  the  world  stationary  or  retrograding. 
Nothing  is  farther  from  the  truth.  Gregory,  like  Charle- 
magne and  Peter  the  Great,  was  a  reformer  of  the  despo- 
tic school.  The  part  he  played  in  the  Church  was  very 
similar  to  that  Avhich  Charlemagne  and  Peter  the  Great, 
the  one  in  France  and  the  other  in  Russia,  played  among 
the  laity.  He  wished  to  reform  the  Church  first,  and 
next  civil  society  by  the  Church.  He  wished  to  intro- 
duce into  the  world  more  morality,   more  justice,  more 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUEOPE.  163 

order  and  regularity  ;  he  wished  to  do  all  this  through 
the  Holy  See,  and  to  turn  all  to  his  own  profit. 

While  Gregory  was  endeavouring  to  bring  the  civil  world 
into  subjection  to  the  Church,  and  the  Church  to  the  See 
of  Rome — not,  as  I  have  said  before,  to  keep  it  stationary, 
or  make  it  retrograde,  but  with  a  view  to  its  reform  and  im- 
provement— an  attempt  of  the  same  nature,  a  similar  move- 
ment, was  made  within  the  solitary  enclosures  of  the 
monasteries.  The  want  of  order,  of  discipline,  and  of  a 
stricter  morality,  was  severely  felt  and  cried  out  for  with  a 
zeal  that  would  not  be  said  nay.  About  this  time  Robert 
De  Moleme  established  his  severe  rule  at  Citeaux ;  about 
the  same  time  flourished  St.  Norbert,  and  the  reform  of  the 
canons,  the  reform  of  Cluny,  and,  at  last,  the  great  reform 
of  St.  Bernard.  A  general  fermentation  reigned  within 
the  monasteries:  the  old  monks  did  not  like  this  ;  in  de- 
fending themselves,  they  called  these  reforms  an  attack 
upon  their  liberty  ;  pleaded  the  necessity  of  conforming  to 
the  manners  of  the  times,  that  it  was  impossible  to  return 
to  the  discipline  of  the  primitive  Church,  and  treated  all 
these  reformers  as  madmen,  as  enthusiasts,  as  tyrants. 
Dip  into  the  history  of  Normandy,  by  Ordericus  Vitalius, 
and  you  will  meet  with  these  complaints  at  almost  every 
page. 

All  this  seemed  greatly  in  favour  of  the  Church,  of  its 
unity,  and  of  its  power.  While,  however,  the  popes  of 
Rome  sought  to  usurp  the  government  of  the  world, 
while  the  monasteries  enforced  a  better  code  of  morals  and 
a  severer  form  of  discipline,  a  few  mighty,  though  solitary 
individuals  protested  in  favour  of  human  reason,  and  as- 
serted its  claim  to  be  heard,  its  right  to  be  consulted,  in 
the  formation  of  man's  opinions.  The  greater  part  of  these 
philosophers  forbore  to  attack  commonly  received  opin- 
ions— I  mean  religious  creeds  j  all  they  claimed  for  reason 


164}  .  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

was,  the  right  to  be  heard — all  they  declared  was,  that  she 
had  the  right  to  try  these  truths  by  her  own  tests,  and  that  it 
was  not  enough  that  they  should  be  merely  affirmed  by  au- 
thority. John  Erigena,  or  John  Scotus,  as  he  is  more 
frequently  called,  Roscelin,  Abelard,  and  others,  became 
the  noble  interpreters  of  individual  reason,  when  it  now  be- 
gan to  claim  its  lawful  inheritance.  It  was  the  teaching 
and  writings  of  these  giants  of  their  days  that  first  put  in 
motion  that  desire  for  intellectual  liberty,  which  kept  pace 
with  the  reform  of  Gregory  VII.,  and  St.  Bernard.  If 
we  examine  the  general  character  of  this  movement  of 
mind,  we  shall  find  that  it  sought  not  a  change  of  opin- 
ion, that  it  did  not  array  itself  against  the  received 
system  of  faith ;  but  that  it  simply  advocated  the  right 
of  reason  to  work  for  itself — in  short,  the  right  of  free 
inquiry. 

The  scholars  of  Abelard,  as  he  himself  tells  us,  in  his 
hitroduction  to  Theology^  requested  him  to  give  them 
*'  some  philosophical  arguments,  such  as  were  fit  to  satisfy 
their  minds,  begged  that  he  would  instruct  them,  not  mere- 
ly to  repeat  what  he  taught  them,  but  to  understand  it ;  for 
no  one  can  believe  that  w^hich  he  does  not  comprehend, 
and  it  is  absurd  to  set  out  to  preach  to  others  concerning 
things  which  neither  those  who  teach  nor  those  who  learn 
can  understand.  What  other  end  can  the  study  of  philo- 
sophy have,  if  not  to  lead  us  to  a  knowledge  of  God,  to 
which  all  studies  should  be  subordinate  1  For  what  purpose 
is  the  reading  of  profane  authors,  and  of  books  which  treat 
of  worldly  affairs,  permitted  to  believers,  if  not  to  enable 
them  to  understand  the  truths  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and 
to  give  them  the  abilities  necessary  to  defend  them  1  It  is 
above  all  things  desirable  for  this  purpose,  that  we  should 
strengthen  one  another  with  all  the  powers  of  reason ;  so 
that  in  questions  so  difficult  and  complicated  as  those 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN    EtTROPE.  165 

which  form  the  object  of  Christian  faith,  you  may  be  able 
to  hinder  the  subtilties  of  its  enemies  from  too  easily 
corrupting  its  purity." 

The  importance  of  this  first  attempt  after  liberty,  or  this 
re-birth  of  the  spirit  of  free  inquiry,  was  not  long  in  making 
itself  felt.  Though  busied  with  its  own  reform,  the  Church 
soon  took  the  alarm,  and  at  once  declared  war  against 
these  new  reformers,  whose  methods  gave  it  more  reason 
to  fear  than  their  doctrines.  This  clamour  of  human  rea» 
son  was  the  grand  circumstance  which  burst  forth  at  the 
close  of  the  eleventh  and  beginning  of  the  twelfth  centu- 
ries, just  at  the  time  when  the  Church  was  establishing  its 
theocratic  and  monastic  form.  At  this  epoch,  a  serious 
struggle,  for  the  first  time  broke  out  between  the  clergy 
and  the  advocates  of  free  inquiry.  The  quarrels  of  Abe- 
lard  and  St.  Bernard,  the  councils  of  Soissons  and  Sens, 
at  which  Abelard  was  condemned,  were  nothing  more  than 
the  expression  of  this  fact,  which  holds  so  important  a 
place  in  the  history  of  modern  civilization.  It  was  the 
principal  occurrence  which  afiected  the  Church  in  the 
twelfth  century ;  the  point  at  which  we  will,  for  the  pre^ 
sent,  take  leave  of  it. 

But  at  this  same  instant  another  power  was  put  in  mo- 
tion, which,  though  altogether  of  a  different  character, 
was  perhaps  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  important  in 
the  progress  of  society  during  the  middle  ages — I  mean 
the  institution  of  free  cities  and  boroughs  ;  or  what  is 
called  the  enfranchisement  of  the  commons.  How  strange 
is  the  inconsistency  of  grossness  and  ignorance  !  If  it 
had  been  told  to  these  early  citizens  who  vindicated  their 
liberties  with  such  enthusiasm,  that  there  were  certain 
men  who  cried  out  for  the  rights  of  human  reason,  the 
right  of  free  inquiry,  men  whom  the  Church  regarded  as 
heretics,  they  would  have  stoned  or  burned  them  on  the 
spot.     Abelard  and  his  friends  more  than  once  ran  the 


166  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

risk  of  suffering  this  kind  of  martyrdom.  On  the  other 
hand,  these  same  philosophers,  who  were  so  bold  in  their 
demands  for  the  privileges  of  reason,  spoke  of  the  en- 
franchisement of  the  commons  as  an  abominable  revolu- 
tion, calculated  to  destroy  civil  society.  Between  the 
movement  of  philosophy  and  the  movement  of  the  com- 
mons— between  political  liberty  and  the  liberty  of  the  hu- 
man mind — a  war  seemed  to  be  declared ;  and  it  has 
required  ages  to  reconcile  these  two  powers,  and  to  make 
them  understand  that  their  interests  are  the  same.  In  the 
twelfth  century  they  had  nothing  in  common,  as  we  shall 
more  fully  see  in  the  next  lecture,  which  will  be  devoted 
to  the  formation  of  free  cities  and  municipal  corporations. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN   EUROPE.  167 


LECTURE    VII. 


RISE       OF       FREE      CITIES 


We  have  already,  in  our  previous  lectures,  brought 
down  the  history  of  the  two  first  great  elements  of  mod- 
ern civilization,  the  feudal  system  and  the  Church,  to  the 
twelfth  century.  The  third  of  these  fundamental  ele- 
ments— that  of  the  commons,  or  free  corporate  cities — - 
will  form  the  subject  of  the  present,  and  I  propose  to  limit 
it  to  the  same  period  as  that   occupied  by  the  other  two. 

It  is  necessary,  however,  that  I  should  notice,  on  enter- 
ing upon  this  subject,  a  difierence  which  exists  between 
corporate  cities  and  the  feudal  system  and  the  Church. 
The  two  latter,  although  they  increased  in  influence,  and 
were  subject  to  many  changes,  yet  show  themselves  as 
completed,  as  having  put  on  a  definite  form,  between  the 
fifth  and  the  twelfth  centuries — we  see  their  rise,  grow^th, 
and  maturity.  Not  so  the  free  cities.  It  is  not  till  to- 
wards the  close  of  this  period — till  the  eleventh  and 
tw^elfth  centuries — that  corporate  cities  make  any  figure 
in  history.  Not  that  I  mean  to  assert  that  their  previous 
history  does  not  merit  attention  ;  not  that  there  are  not 
evident  traces  of  their  existence  before  this  period  ;  all  I 
would  observe  is,  that  they  did  not,  previously  to  the 
eleventh  century,  perform  any  important  part  in  the  great 
drama  of  the  world,  as  connected  with  modern  civiliza- 
tion. Again,  with  regard  to  the  feudal  system  and  the 
Church  ;  we  ha\  e  seen  them,  betw^een  the  fifth  century  and 
the  twelfth,  act  with  power  upon  the  social  system  ;  we 
have  seen  the  efl^ects  they  produced ;  by  regarding  them 


168  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

as  two  great  principles,  we  have  arrived  by  way  of  induc- 
tion, by  way  of  conjecture,  at  certain  results  which  we 
have  verified  by  referring  to  facts  themselves.  This,  how- 
ever, we  cannot  do  with  regard  to  corporations.  We  only 
see  these  in  their  childhood.  I  can  scarcely  go  further 
to-day  than  inquire  into  their  causes,  their  origin ;  and 
the  few  observations  I  shall  make  respecting  their  effects 
— respecting  the  influence  of  corporate  cities  upon  mod- 
ern civilization,  will  be  rather  a  foretelling  of  what  after- 
w^ards  came  to  pass,  than  a  recounting  of  what  actually 
took  place.  I  cannot,  at  this  period,  call  in  the  testimony 
of  known  and  contemporary  events,  because  it  was  not 
till  between  the  twelfth  and  fifteenth  centuries  that  cor- 
porations attained  any  degree  of  perfection  and  influence, 
that  these  institutions  bore  any  fruit,  and  that  we  can 
verify  our  assertions  by  history.  I  mention  this  differ- 
ence of  situation,  in  order  to  forewarn  you  of  that  which 
you  may  find  incomplete  and  premature  in  the  sketch  I 
am  about  to  give  you. 

Let  us  suppose  that  in  the  year  1789,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  terrible  regeneration  of  France,  a  burgess  of 
the  twelfth  century  had  risen  from  his  grave,  and  made 
his  appearance  among  us,  and  some  one  had  put  into  his 
hands  (for  we  will  suppose  he  could  read)  one  of  those 
spirit-stirring  pamphlets  which  caused  so  much  excite- 
ment, for  instance,  that  of  M.  Sieyes,  What  is  the  third 
estate?  ('■'■  Qu^est-ce  que  le  tiers  V)  If,  in  looking  at  this, 
he  had  met  the  following  passage,  which  forms  the  basis 
of  the  pamphlet : — "  The  third  estate  is  the  French  na- 
tion without  the  nobility  and  clergy  :"  Avhat,  let  me  ask, 
w^ould  be  the  impression  such  a  sentence  would  make  on 
this  burgess's  mind?  Is  it  probable  that  he  would  under- 
stand it  %  No  :  he  would  not  be  able  to  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  the  words  "  the  French  nation,"  because  they 
remind  him  of  no  facts  or  circumstances  with  which  he 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  169 

would  be  acquainted,  but  represent  a  state  of  things  to  the 
existence  of  which  he  is  an  entire  stranger  ;  but  if  he  did 
understand  the  phrase,  and  had  a  clear  apprehension  that 
the  absokite  sovereignty  was  lodged  in  the  third  estate, 
it  is  beyond  a  question  that  he  would  characterize  such  a 
proposition  as  almost  absurd  and  impious,  so  utterly  at 
variance  would  it  be  with  his  feelings  and  his  ideas  of 
things^ — so  contradictory  to  the  experience  and  observa- 
tion of  his  whole  life. 

If  we  now  suppose  the  astonished  burgess  to  be  intro- 
duced into  any  one  of  the  free  cities  of  France,  which  had 
existed  in  his  time — say  Rheims,  or  Beauvais,  or  Laon,  or 
Noyon — we  shall  see  him  still  more  astonished  and  puz- 
zled :  he  enters  the  town,  he  sees  no  towers,  ramparts, 
militia,  or  any  other  kind  of  defence ',  every  thing  ex- 
posed, every  thing  an  easy  spoil  to  the  first  depredator, 
the  town  ready  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  first  assailant. 
The  burgess  is  alarmed  at  the  insecurity  of  this  free  city, 
which  he  finds  in  so  defenceless  and  unprotected  a  condi- 
tion. He  then  proceeds  into  the  heart  of  the  town ;  he 
inquires  how  things  are  going  on,  what  is  the  nature  of  its 
government,  and  the  character  of  its  inhabitants.  He 
learns  that  there  is  an  authority,  not  resident  within  its 
walls,  ^vhich  imposes  whatever  taxes  it  pleases  to  levy 
upon  them  without  their  consent;  which  requires  them 
to  keep  up  a  militia,  and  to  serve  in  the  army  without 
their  inclination  being  consulted.  They  talk  to  him  about 
the  magistrates,  about  the*  mayor  and  aldermen,  and  he 
is  obliged  to  hear  that  the  burgesses  have  nothing  to  do 
with  their  nomination.  He  learns  that  the  municipal  gov- 
ernment is  not  conducted  by  the  burgesses,  but  that  a  ser- 
vant of  the  king,  a  steward  living  at  a  distance,  has  the 
sole  management  of  their  affairs.  In  addition  to  this,  he 
is  informed  that  they  are  prohibited  from  assembling  to- 
gether to  take  into  consideration  matters  immediately  con- 

15 


170  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

cerning  themselves,  that  the  church  bells  have  ceased  to 
announce  public  meetings  for  such  purposes.  The  bur- 
gess  of  the  twelfth  century  is  struck  dumb  with  confusion — 
a  moment  since  he  was  amazed  at  the  greatness,  the  im- 
portance, the  vast  superiority  which  the  "  tiers  etat  "  so 
Tauntingly  arrogated  to  itself;  but  now,  upon  examina- 
tion, he  finds  them  deprived  of  all  civic  rights,  and  in  a 
state  of  thraldom  and  degradation  far  more  intolerable 
than  he  had  ever  before  witnessed.  He  passes  suddenly 
from  one  extreme  to  the  other,  from  the  spectacle  of  a 
corporation  exercising  sovereign  power  to  a  corporation 
without  any  power  at  all :  how  is  it  possible  that  he  should 
understand  this,  or  be  able  to  reconcile  it  1  his  head  must 
be  turned,  and  his  faculties  lost  in  w^onder  and  confusion. 

Now,  let  us  burgesses  of  the  nineteenth  century  imagine, 
in  ourturn,  that  we  are  transported  back  into  the  twelfth. 
A  twofold  appearance,  but  exactly  reversed,  presents  it- 
self to  us  in  a  precisely  similar  manner.  If  we  regard  the 
affairs  of  the  public  in  general — the  state,  the  government, 
the  country,  the  nation  at  large,  we  shall  neither  see  nor 
hear  any  thing  of  burgesses ;  they  were  mere  ciphers — of 
no  importance  or  consideration  whatever.  Not  only  so, 
but  if  we  would  know  in  w^hat  estimation  they  held  them- 
selves as  a  body,  what  weight,  what  influence  they  at- 
tached to  themselves  with  respect  to  their  relations  to- 
wards the  government  of  France  as  a  nation,  we  shall  re- 
ceive a  reply  to  our  inquiry  in  language  expressive  of 
deep  humility  and  timidity  ;  A\'4iile  we  shall  find  their 
masters,  the  lords,  from  whom  they  subsequently  wrested 
their  franchises,  treating  them,  at  least  as  far  as  words 
go,  with  a  pride  and  scorn  truly  amazing  ;  yet  these  in- 
dignities do  not  appear,  in  the  slightest  degree,  to  provoke 
or  astonish  their  submissive  vassals. 

But  let  us  enter  one  of  these  free  cities,  and  see  what 
is  going  on  within  it.     Here  things  take  quite  another  turn : 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  171 

we  find  ourselves  in  a  fortified  towoi,  defended  by  armed 
burgesses.  These  burgesses  fix  their  o\\ti  taxes,  elect 
their  own  magistrates,  have  their  own  courts  of  judicature, 
their  own  public  assemblies  for  deliberating  upon  public 
measures,  from  which  none  are  excluded.  They  make 
war  at  their  own  expense,  even  against  their  suzerain — 
maintain  their  own  militia.  In  short,  they  govern  them- 
seh'es,  they  are  sovereigns. 

Here  we  have  a  similar  contrast  to  that  which  made 
France,  of  the  eighteenth  century,  so  perplexing  to  the 
burgess  of  the  twelfth  ;  the  scenes  onlj^  are  changed.  In 
the  present  day  the  burgesses,  in  a  national  point  of  view, 
are  every  thing — municipalities  nothing  ;  formerly  cor- 
porations were  every  thing,  while  the  burgesses,  as 
respects  the  nation,  were  nothing.  From  this  it  will 
appear  evident  that  many  things,  many  extraordinary 
events,  and  even  many  revolutions,  must  have  happened 
between  the  twelfth  and  the  fifteenth  centuries,  in  order 
to  bring  about  so  great  a  change  as  that  which  has  taken 
place  in  the  social  condition  of  this  class  of  society.  But, 
however  vast  this  change,  there  can  be  no  doubt  but 
that  the  commons,  the  third  estate  of  1789,  politically 
speaking,  are  the  descendants,  the  heirs  of  the  free  towns 
of  the  twelfth  century.  And  the  present  haughty,  ambi- 
tious French  nation,  which  aspires  so  high,  which  pro- 
claims so  pompously  its  sovereignty,  and  pretends  not 
only  to  have  regenerated  and  to  govern  itself,  but  to  re- 
generate and  rule  the  whole  world, is  indisputably  descend- 
ed from  those  very  free  towns  which  revolted  in  the  twelfth 
century — with  great  spirit  and  courage  it  must  be  allowed, 
but  with  no  nobler  object  than  that  of  escaping  to  some 
remote  corner  of  the  land  from  the  vexatious  tyranny  of 
a  few  nobles. 

It  would  be  in  vain  to  expect  that  the  condition  of  the 
free  towns  in  the  twelfth  century  will  reveal  the  causes  of 


172  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

a  metamorphosis  such  as  this,  which  resulted  from  a  se- 
ries of  events  that  took  place  between  the  twelfth  and 
eighteenth  centuries.  It  is  in  these  events  that  we  shall 
discover  the  causes  of  this  change  as  we  go  on.  Never- 
theless, the  origin  of  the  ^'- tiers  etaV  has  played  a  striking 
part  in  its  history  j  and  though  we  may  not  be  able  therein 
to  trace  out  the  whole  secret  of  its  destiny,  we  shall,  at 
least,  there  meet  with  the  seeds  of  it;  that  which  it  was 
at  first,  again  occurs  in  that  which  it  is  become,  and  this 
to  a  much  greater  extent  than  might  be  presumed  from 
appearances.  A  sketch,  however  imperfect,  of  the  state 
of  the  free  cities  in  the  twelfth  century^  will,  I  think,  con- 
vince you  of  this  fact. 

In  order  to  understand  the  condition  of  the  free  cities 
at  that  time  properly,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  them  in 
two  points  of  view.  There  are  two  great  questions  to  be 
determined:  first^  that  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the  com- 
mons, or  cities — that  is  to  say,  how  this  revolution  was 
brought  about,  what  were  its  causes,  what  alteration  it 
effected  in  the  condition  of  the  burgesses,  what  in  that 
of  society  in  general,  and  in  that  of  all  the  other  orders  of 
the  state.  The  second  question  relates  to  the  government 
of  the  free  cities,  the  internal  condition  of  the  enfranchised 
towns,  with  reference  to  the  burgesses  residing  within 
them,  the  principles,  forms,  and  customs  that  prevailed 
among  them. 

From  these  two  sources — namely,  the  change  introduced 
into  the  social  position  of  the  burgesses,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  from  the  internal  government,  by  their  municipal 
economy,  on  the  other,  has  flowed  all  their  influence  upon 
modern  civilization.  All  the  circumstances  that  can  be 
traced  to  their  influence,  may  be  referred  to  one  of  those 
two  causes.  As  soon,  then,  as  we  thoroughly  understand^ 
and  can  satisfactorily  account  for,  the  enfranchisement  of 
the  free  cities  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  formation  of  their 


C1V1L12AT10N    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  173 

government  on  the  other,  we  shall  be  in  possession  of  the 
two  keys  to  their  history.  In  conclusion,  I  shall  say  a  few 
words  on  the  great  diversity  of  conditions  in  the  free  cities 
of  Europe.  The  facts  which  I  am  about  to  lay  before  you 
are  not  to  be  applied  indiscriminately  to  all  the  free  cities 
of  the  twelfth  century — to  those  of  Italy,  Spain,  England, 
and  France  alike  ;  many  of  them  undoubtedly  were  nearly 
the  same  in  them  all,  but  the  points  of  difference  are  great 
and  important.  I  shall  point  them  out  to  your  notice  as  I 
proceed.  We  shall  meet  with  them  again  at  a  more  ad- 
vanced stage  of  our  civilization,  and  can  then  examine 
them  more  closely. 

In  acquainting  ourselves  with  the  history  of  the  enfran- 
chisement of  the  free  towns,  we  must  remember  what  was 
the  state  of  those  towns  between  the  fifth  and  eleventh  cen- 
turies— from  the  fall  of  the  Eoman  empire  to  the  time 
when  municipal  revolution  commenced.  Here,  I  repeat,  the 
differences  are  striking:  the  condition  of  the  towns  varied 
amazingly  in  the  different  countries  of  Europe  ;  still  there 
are  some  facts  which  may  be  regarded  as  nearly  common 
to  them  all,  and  it  is  to  these  that  I  shall  confine  my  ob- 
servations. When  I  have  gone  through  these,  I  shall  say 
a  few  words  more  particularly  respecting  the  free  towns 
of  France,  and  especially  those  of  the  north,  beyond  the 
Rhone  and  the  Loire  j  these  will  form  prominent  figures 
in  the  sketch  I  am  about  to  make. 

After  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire,  between  the  fifth  and 
tenth  centuries,  the  towns  were  neither  in  a  state  of  servi- 
tude nor  freedom.  We  here  again  run  the  same  risk  of 
error  in  the  employment  of  words,  that  I  spoke  to  you  of 
in  a  previous  lecture  in  describing  the  character  of  men 
and  events.  When  a  society  has  lasted  a  considerable 
time,  and  its  language  also,  its  words  require  a  complete,  a 
determinate,  a  precise,  a  sort  of  legal  official  signification. 
Time  has  introduced  into  the  signification  of  every  term,  a 
1&* 


174  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

thousand  ideas,  which  are  awakened  within  us  every  time 
we  hear  it  pronounced,  but  which,  as  tliey  do  not  all  bear 
the  same  date,  are  not  all  suitable  at  the  same  time.  The 
terms  '''•servitude  and  freedom,''''  for  example,  recall  to  our 
minds  ideas  far  more  precise  and  definite  than  the  facts  of 
the  eighth,  ninth,  or  tenth  centuries  to  which  they  relate.  If 
we  say  that  the  towns  in  the  eighth  century  were  in  a  state 
of  freedom,  we  say  by  far  too  much :  we  attach  now  to  the 
word  '■''freedom^^  a  signification  which  does  not  represent 
the  fact  of  the  eighth  century.  We  shall  fall  into  the  same 
error,  if  we  say  that  the  towns  were  in  a  state  of  servitude  ; 
for  this  term  implies  a  state  of  things  very  different  to  the 
circumstances  of  the  municipal  towns  of  those  days.  I  say 
again,  then,  that  the  towns  were  neither  in  a  state  of  free- 
dom nor  servitude :  they  suffered  all  the  evils  to  which 
weakness  is  liable  :  they  were  a  prey  to  the  continual  de- 
predations, rapacity,  and  violence  of  the  strong :  yet,  not- 
withstanding these  horrid  disorders,their  impoverished  and 
diminishing  population,  the  towns  had,  and  still  maintained, 
a  certain  degree  of  importance  :  in  most  of  them  there  was 
a  clergyman,  a  bishop  who  exercised  great  authority,  who 
possessed  great  influence  over  the  people,  served  as  a  tie 
between  them  and  their  conquerors,  thus  maintaining  the 
city  in  a  sort  of  independence,  by  throwing  over  it  the  pro- 
tecting shield  of  religion.  Besides  this,  there  were  still 
left  in  the  towns  some  valuable  fragments  of  Roman  insti- 
tutions. We  are  indebted  to  the  careful  researches  of 
MM.  de  Savigny,  Hullmann,  Mdle.  de  Lezardiere,  &c., 
for  having  furnished  us  with  many  circumstances  of  this 
nature.  We  hear  often,  at  this  period,  of  the  convocation 
of  the  senate,  of  the  curiae,  of  public  assemblies,  of  munici- 
pal magistrates.  Matters  of  police,  wills,  donations,  and  a 
multitude  of  civil  transactions,  were  concluded  in  the  curiae 
by  the  magistrates,  in  the  same  way  that  they  had  pre- 
viously been  done  under  the  Roman  municipal  government. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  175 

These  remains  of  urban  activity  and  freedom  were  gra- 
dually disappearing-,  it  is  true,  from  day  to  day.  Barbarism 
and  disorder,  evils  always  increasing,  accelerated  depopu- 
lation. The  establishment  of  the  lords  of  the  country  in 
the  provinces,  and  the  rising  preponderance  of  agricultu- 
ral life,  became  another  cause  of  the  decline  of  the  cities. 
The  Bishops  themselves,  after  they  had  incorporated 
themselves  into  the  feudal  frame,  attached  much  less  im- 
portance to  their  municipal  life.  Finally,  upon  the  tri- 
umph of  the  feudal  system,  the  towns,  without  falling 
into  the  slavery  of  the  agriculturists,  were  entirely  sub- 
jected to  the  control  of  a  lord,  were  included  in  some 
fief,  and  lost,  by  this  title,  somewhat  of  the  independence 
which  still  remained  to  them,  and  which,  indeed,  they  had 
continued  to  possess,  even  in  the  most  barbarous  times — 
even  in  the  first  centuries  of  invasion.  So  that  from  the 
fifth  century  up  to  the  time  of  the  complete  organization 
of  the  feudal  system,  the  state  of  the  towns  was  contin- 
ually getting  worse. 

When  once,  however,  the  feudal  system  was  fairly 
established,  when  every  man  had  taken  his  place,  and  be- 
came fixed  as  it  were  to  the  soil,  when  the  wandering  life 
had  entirely  ceased,  the  towns  again  assumed  some  im- 
portance— a  new  activity  began  to  display  itself  within 
them.  This  is  not  surprising.  Human  activity,  as  we  all 
know,  is  like  the  fertility  of  the  soil, — when  the  disturb- 
ing process  is  over,  it  reappears  and  makes  all  to  grow 
and  blossom  ;  wherever  there  appears  the  least  glimmer- 
ing of  peace  and  order  the  hopes  of  man  are  excited,  and 
with  his  hopes  his  industry.  This  is  what  took  place  in 
the  cities.  No  sooner  was  society  a  little  settled  under 
the  feudal  system,  than  the  proprietors  of  fiefs  began  to 
feel  new  wants,  and  to  acquire  a  certain  degree  of  taste 
for  improvement  and  melioration ;  this  gave  rise  to  some 
little  commerce  and  industry  in  the  towns  of  their  do- 
mains J  wealth  and  population  increased  within  them, — 


176  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

slowly  for  certain,  but  still  they  increased.  Among  othet 
circumstances  which  aided  in  bringing  this  about,  there 
is  one  which,  in  my  opinion,  has  not  been  sufficiently 
noticed, — 1  mean  the  asylum,  the  protection  which  the 
churches  afforded  to  fugitives.  Before  the  free  towns 
were  constituted,  before  they  were  in  a  condition  by  their 
power,  their  fortifications,  to  offer  an  asylum  to  the 
desolate  population  of  the  country,  when  there  was  no 
place  of  safety  for  them  but  the  church,  this  circum- 
stance alone  was  sufficient  to  draw  into  the  cities  many 
unfortunate  persons  and  fugitives.  These  sought  refuge 
either  in  the  church  itself  or  within  its  precincts ;  it 
was  not  merely  the  lower  orders,  such  as  serfs,  vil- 
lains, and  so  on,  that  sought  this  protection,  but  fre- 
quently men  of  considerable  rank  and  wealth,  who  might 
chance  to  be  proscribed.  The  chronicles  of  the  times 
are  full  of  examples  of  this  kind.  We  find  men  lately- 
powerful,  upon  being  attacked  by  some  more  power- 
ful neighbour,  or  by  the  king  himself,  abandoning  their 
dwellings,  and  carrying  away  all  the  property  they  could 
rake  together,  entering  into  some  city,  and  placing  them- 
selves under  the  protection  of  a  church :  they  became 
citizens.  Refugees  of  this  sort  had,  in  my  opinion,  a 
considerable  influence  upon  the  progress  of  the  cities  ; 
they  introduced  into  them,  besides  their  wealth,  elements 
of  a  population  superior  to  the  great  mass  of  their  inha- 
bitants. We  know,  moreover,  that  when  once  an  assem- 
blage somewhat  considerable  is  formed  in  any  place,  that 
other  persons  naturally  flock  to  it ;  perhaps  from  finding 
it  a  place  of  greater  security,  or  perhaps  from  that  socia- 
ble disposition  of  our  nature  which  never  abandons  us. 

By  the  concurrence  of  all  these  causes,^  the  cities  re- 
gained a  small  portion  of  power,  as  soon  as  the  feudal 
system  became  somewhat  settled.  But  the  security  of 
the  citizens  was  not  restored  to  an  equal  extent.  The 
roving,  wandering  life  had,  it  is  true,  in  a  great  measure- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  177 

ceased,  but  to  the  conquerors,  to  the  new  proprietors  of 
the  soil,  this  roving  life  was  one  great  means  of  gratify- 
ing their  passions.  When  they  desired  to  pillage,  they 
made  an  excursion,  they  went  afar  to  seek  a  better  for- 
tune, another  domain.  When  they  became  more  settled, 
Avhen  they  considered  it  necessary  to  renounce  their  pre- 
datory expeditions,  the  same  passions,  the  same  gross 
desires,  still  remained  in  full  force.  But  the  Aveight  of 
these  now  fell  upon  those  whom  they  found  ready  at  hand, 
upon  the  powerful  of  the  world,  upon  the  cities.  Instead 
of  going  afar  to  pillage,  they  pillaged  what  was  near. 
The  exactions  of  the  proprietors  of  fiefs  upon  the  bur- 
gesses were  redoubled  at  the  end  of  the  tenth  century. 
Whenever  the  lord  of  the  domain,  by  which  a  city  was 
girt,  felt  a  desire  to  increase  his  wealth,  he  gratified  his 
avarice  at  the  expense  of  the  citizens.  It  was  more  par- 
ticularly at  this  period  that  the  citizens  complained  of  the 
total  want  of  commercial  security.  Merchants,  on  return- 
ing from  their  trading  rounds  could  not,  with  safety,  return 
to  their  city.  Every  avenue  was  taken  possession  of  by 
the  lord  of  the  domain  and  nis  vassals.  The  moment  in 
which  industry  commenced  its  career,  was  precisely  that 
in  which  security  was  most  wanting.  Nothing  is  more 
galling  to  an  active  spirit,  than  to  be  deprived  of  the  long- 
anticipated  pleasure  of  enjoying  the  fruits  of  his  industry. 
When  robbed  of  this,  he  is  far  more  irritated  and  vexed 
than  when  made  to  suffer  in  a  state  of  being  fixed  and 
monotonous,  than  when  that  which  is  torn  from  him  is  not 
the  fruit  of  his  own  activity,  has  not  excited  in  him  all 
the  joys  of  hope.  There  is  in  the  progressive  movement, 
which  elevates  a  man  of  a  population  towards  a  new  for- 
tune, a  spirit  of  resistance  against  iniquity  and  violence 
much  more  energetic  than  in  any  other  situation. 

Such,  then,  was  the  state  of  cities  during  the  course  of 
the  tenth  century.  They  possessed  more  strength,  more 
importance,  more  wealth,  more  interests  to  defend.     At 


178  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

the  same  time,  it  became  more  necessary  than  ever  to  de- 
fend them,  for  these  interests,  their  wealth  and  their 
strength,  became  objects  of  desire  to  the  nobles.  With 
the  means  of  resistance  the  danger  and  difficulty  increased 
also.  Besides,  the  feudal  system  gave  to  all  connected 
with  it  a  perpetual  example  of  resistance ;  the  idea  of 
an  organized  energetic  government,  capable  of  keeping 
society  in  order  and  regularity  by  its  intervention,  had 
never  presented  itself  to  the  spirits  of  that  period.  On 
the  contrary,  there  was  a  perpetual  recurrence  of  indivi- 
dual will,  refusing  to  submit  to  authority.  Such  was  the 
conduct  of  the  major  part  of  the  holders  of  fiefs  towards 
their  suzerains,  of  the  small  proprietors  of  land  to  the 
greater  ;  so  that  at  the  very  time  when  the  cities  were 
oppressed  and  tormented,  at  the  moment  when  they  had 
new  and  greater  interests  to  sustain,  they  had  before  their 
eyes  a  continual  lesson  of  insurrection.  The  feudal  sys- 
tem rendered  this  service  to  mankind — it  has  constantly 
exhibited  individual  will,  displaying  itself  in  all  its  power 
and  energy.  The  lesson  prospered;  in  spite  of  their 
weakness,  in  spite  of  the  prodigious  inequality  which 
existed  between  them  and  the  great  proprietors,  their 
lords,  the  cities  everywhere  broke  out  into  rebellion 
against  them. 

It  is  difficult  to  fix  a  precise  date  to  this  great  event — • 
this  general  insurrection  of  the  cities.  The  commence- 
ment of  their  enfranchisement  is  usually  placed  at  the 
beginning  of  the  eleventh  century.  But  in  all  great 
events,  how  many  unknown  and  disastrous  efl^orts  must 
have  been  made,  before  the  successful  one  !  Providence, 
upon  all  occasions,  in  order  to  accomplish  its  designs,  is 
prodigal  of  courage,  virtues,  sacrifices — finally,  of  man  j 
and  it  is  only  after  a  vast  number  of  unknown  attempts 
apparently  lost,  after  a  host  of  noble  hearts  have  fallen 
into  despair — convinced  that  their  cause  was  lost — that  it 
triumphs.     Such,  no  doubt,  was  the  case  in  the  struggle 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  179 

oi  the  free  cities.  Doubtless  in  the  eighth,  ninth,  and 
tenth  centuries  there  were  many  attempts  at  resistance, 
many  efforts  made  for  freedom  : — many  attempts  to  escape 
from  bondage,  which  not  only  were  unsuccessful,  but  the 
remembi^nce  of  which,  from  their  ill  success,  has  re- 
mained without  glory.  Still  we  may  rest  assured  that 
these  attempts  had  a  vast  influence  upon  succeeding 
events  :  they  kept  alive  and  maintained  the  spirit  of  lib- 
erty— they  prepared  the  great  insurrection  of  the  eleventh 
century. 

I  say  insurrection,  and  I  say  it  advisedly.  The  enfran- 
chisement of  the  towns  or  communities  in  the  eleventh 
century  was  the  fruit  of  a  real  insurrection,  of  a  real  war 
— a  war  declared  by  the  population  of  the  cities  against 
their  lords.  The  first  fact  which  we  always  meet  with  in 
annals  of  this  nature,  is  the  rising  of  the  burgesses,  who 
seize  whatever  arms  they  can  lay  their  hands  on  ; — it  is 
the  expulsion  of  the  people  of  the  lord,  who  come  for  the 
purpose  of  levying  contributions,  some  extortion  ',  it  is  an 
enterprise  against  the  neighbouring  castle  ; — such  is  al- 
ways the  character  of  the  war.  If  the  insurrection  fails, 
what  does  the  conqueror  instantly  do  1  He  orders  the 
destruction  of  the  fortifications  erected  by  the  citizens, 
not  only  around  their  city,  but  also  around  each  dwelling. 
We  see  that  at  the  very  moment  of  confederation,  after 
having  promised  to  act  in  common,  after  having  taken,  in 
common,  the  corporation  oath,  the  first  act  of  each  citizen 
was  to  put  his  own  house  in  a  state  of  resistance.  Some 
towns,  the  names  of  which  are  now  almost  forgotten,  the 
little  community  of  Vezelai,  in  Nevers,  for  example — sus- 
tained against  their  lord  a  long  and  obstinate  struggle. 
At  length  victory  declared  for  the  Abbot  of  Vezelai ;  upon 
the  spot  he  ordered  the  demolition  of  the  fortifications  of 
the  houses  of  the  citizens ;  and  the  names  of  many  of  the 
heroes,  whose  fortified  houses  were  then  destroyed,  are 
still  preserved. 


180  GENERAL    HISTORY   OF 

Let  us  enter  the  interior  of  these  habitations  of  our 
ancestors  ;  let  iis  examine  the  form  of  their  construction, 
and  the  mode  of  life  which  this  reveals :  all  is  devoted  to 
war,  every  thing  is  impressed  with  its  character. 

The  construction  of  the  house  of  a  citizen  of  the  twelfth 
century,  so  far,  at  least,  as  we  can  now  obtain  an  idea  of 
it,  was  something  of  this  kind  :  it  consisted  usually  of 
three  stories,  one  room  in  each  ;  that  on  the  ground  floor 
served  as  a  general  eating  room  for  the  family  ;  the  first 
story  was  much  elevated  for  the  sake  of  security,  and  this 
is  the  most  remarkable  circumstance  in  the  construction. 
The  room  in  this  story  was  the  habitation  of  the  master  of 
the  house  and  his  wife.  The  house  was,  in  general,  flanked 
with  an  angular  tower,  usually  square :  another  symptom 
of  war  ;  another  means  of  defence.  The  second  story 
consisted  again  of  a  single  room  ;  its  use  is  not  known, 
but  it  probably  served  for  the  children  and  domestics. 
Above  this  in  most  houses,  was  a  small  platform,  evidently 
intended  as  an  observatory  or  watch-tower.  Every  fea- 
ture of  the  building  bore  the  appearance  of  war.  This 
was  the  decided  characteristic,  the  true  name  of  the 
movement,  which  wrought  out  the  freedom  of  the  cities. 

After  a  war  has  continued  a  certain  time,  whatever  may 
be  the  belligerent  parties,  it  naturally  leads  to  a  peace. 
The  treaties  of  peace  between  the  cities  and  their  adver- 
saries were  so  many  charters.  These  charters  of  the 
cities  were  so  many  positive  treaties  of  peace  between 
the  burgesses  and  their  lords. 

The  insurrection  was  general.  When  I  say  geiieral^  I 
do  not  mean  that  there  was  any  concerted  plan,  that  there 
was  any  coalition  between  all  the  burgesses  of  a  country; 
nothing  like  it  took  place.  But  the  situation  of  all  the 
towns  being  nearly  the  same,  they  all  were  liable  to  the 
same  danger  ;  a  prey  to  the  same  disasters.  Having  ac- 
quired similar  means  of  resistance  and  defence,  they  made 
use  of  those  means  at  nearly  the  same  time.  It  may  be 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  181 

possible,  also,  that  the  force  of  example  did  something  ; 
that  the  success  of  one  or  two  communities  was  conta- 
gious. Sometimes  the  charters  appear  to  have  been  drawn 
up  from  the  same  model ;  for  instance,  that  of  Noyon 
served  as  a  pattern  for  those  of  Beauvais,  St.  Quentin  and 
others ;  I  doubt,  however,  whether  example  had  so  great 
an  influence  as  is  generally  conjectured.  Communication 
between  different  provinces  was  difficult  and  of  rare  occur- 
rence ',  the  intelligence  conveyed  and  received  by  hearsay 
and  general  report  was  vague  and  uncertain  ;  and  there  is 
much  reason  for  believing  that  the  insurrection  was  rather 
the  result  of  a  similarity  of  situation  and  of  a  general 
spontaneous  movement.  When  I  say  general^  I  wish  to  be 
understood  simply  as  saying  that  insurrections  took  place 
everywhere  ;  they  did  not,  I  repeat,  spring  from  any  unan- 
imous concerted  movement :  all  was  particular,  local ; 
each  community  rebelled  on  its  own  account,  against  its 
own  lord,  unconnected  with  any  other  place. 

The  vicissitudes  of  the  struggle  were  great.  Not  only 
did  success  change  from  one  side  to  the  other,  but  even 
after  peace  was  in  appearance  concluded,  after  the  charter 
had  been  solemnly  sworn  to  by  both  parties,  they  violated 
and  eluded  its  articles  in  ail  sorts  of  ways.  Kings  acted  a 
prominent  part  in  the  alternations  of  these  struggles.  I 
shall  speak  of  these  more  in  detail  when  I  come  to  roy- 
alty itself.  Too  much  has  probably  been  said  of  the  effects 
of  royal  influence  upon  the  struggles  of  the  people  for 
freedom.  These  effects  have  been  often  contested,  some- 
times exaggerated,  and  in  my  opinion,  sometimes  greatly 
underrated.  I  shall  here  confine  myself  to  the  assertion 
that  royalty  was  often  called  upon  to  interfere  in  these 
contests,  sometimes  by  the  cities,  sometimes  by  their 
lords  ;  and  that  it  played  very  different  parts  ;  acting  now 
upon  one  principle,  and  soon  after  upon  another  ;  that  it 
was  ever  changing  its  intentioas,  its  designs  and  its  con- 

16 


182  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

duct ;  but  that  taking  it  altogether,  it  did  much,  and  pro- 
duced a  greater  portion  of  good  than  of  evil. 

In  spite  of  all  these  vicissitudes,  notwithstanding  the 
perpetual  violation  of  charters  in  the  twelfth  century — 
the  freedom  of  the  cities  was  consummated.  Europe, 
and  particularly  France,  which,  during  a  whole  century, 
had  abounded  in  insurrections,  now  abounded  in  charters  ; 
cities  rejoiced  in  them  with  more  or  less  security,  but 
still  they  rejoiced  ;  the  event  succeeded,  and  the  right 
was  acknowledged. 

Let  us  now  endeavour  to  ascertain  the  more  immediate 
results  of  this  great  fact,  and  what  changes  it  produced 
in  the  situation  of  the  burgesses  as  regarded  society. 

And,  at  first,  as  regards  the  relations  of  the  burgesses 
with  the  general  government  of  the  country,  or  with  what 
we  now  call  the  state,  it  effected  nothing ;  they  took  no 
part  in  this  more  than  before :  all  remained  local,  enclosed 
within  the  limits  of  the  fief. 

One  circumstance,  however,  renders  this  assertion  not 
strictly  true  :  a  connection  now  began  to  be  formed  be- 
tween the  cities  and  the  king.  At  one  time  the  people 
called  upon  the  king  for  support  and  protection,  or  soli- 
cited him  to  guaranty  the  charter  which  had  been  prom- 
ised or  sworn  to.  At  another  the  barons  invoked  the  ju- 
dicial interference  of  the  king  between  them  and  the  bur- 
gesses. At  the  request  of  one  or  other  of  the  two  parties, 
from  a  multitude  of  various  causes,  royalty  was  called 
upon  to  interfere  in  the  quarrel,  whence  resulted  a  fre- 
quent and  close  connexion  between  the  citizens  and  the 
king.  In  consequence  of  this  connexion  the  cities  be- 
came a  part  of  the  state,  they  began  to  have  relations 
with  the  general  government. 

Although  all  still  remained  local,  yet  a  new  general  class 
of  society  became  formed  by  the  enfranchisement  of  the 
commons.  No  coalition  of  the  burgesses  of  different  cities 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  183 

had  taken  place  ;  as  yet  they  had  as  a  class  no  public  or 
general  existence.  But  the  country  was  covered  with 
men  engaged  in  similar  pursuits,  possessing  the  same  views 
and  interests,  the  same  manners  and  customs  ;  between 
whom  there  could  not  fail  to  be  gradually  formed  a  certain 
tie,  from  which  originated  the  general  class  of  burgesses. 
This  formation  of  a  great  social  class  was  the  necessary 
result  of  the  local  enfranchisement  of  the  burgesses.  It 
must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  the  class  of  which  we 
are  speaking  was  then,  what  it  has  since  become.  Not 
only  is  its  situation  greatly  changed,  but  its  elements  are 
totally  different.  In  the  twelfth  century,  this  class  was  al- 
most entirely  composed  of  merchants  or  small  traders,  and 
little  landed  or  house  proprietors  who  had  taken  up  their  re- 
sidence in  the  city.  Three  centuries  afterwards  there  were 
added  to  this  class  lawyers,  phj^^sicians,  men  of  letters,  and 
the  local  magistrates.  The  class  of  burgesses  was  formed 
gradually,  and  of  very  different  elements :  history  gives 
us  no  accurate  account  of  its  progress,  nor  of  its  diversity. 
When  the  body  of  citizens  is  spoken  of,  it  is  erroneously 
conjectured  to  have  been,  at  all  times,  composed  of  the 
same  elements.  Absurd  supposition!  It  is,  perhaps,  in 
the  diversity  of  its  composition  at  different  periods  of  his- 
tory that  we  should  seek  to  discover  the  secret  of  its  des- 
tiny ;  so  long  as  it  was  destitute  of  magistrates  and  of  men 
of  letters,  so  long  it  remained  totally  unlike  what  it  became 
in  the  sixteenth  century ;  as  regards  the  state,  it  neither 
possessed  the  same  character  nor  the  same  importance. 
In  order  to  form  a  just  idea  of  the  changes  in  the  rank  and 
influence  of  this  portion  of  society,  we  must  take  a  view 
of  the  new  professions,  the  new  moral  situations^  of  the 
new  intellectual  state  which  gradually  arose  within  it.  In 
the  twelfth  century,  I  must  repeat,  the  body  of  citizens 
consisted  only  of  small  merchants  or  traders,  who,  after 
having  finished  their  purchases  and  sales,  retired  to  their 
houses  in  the  city  or  town  j  and  of  little  proprietors  of 


184«  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

houses  or  lands  who  had  there  taken  up  their  residence. 
Such  was  the  European  class  of  citizens,  in  its  primary 
elements. 

The  third  great  result  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the 
cities  was  the  struggle  of  classes  ;  a  struggle  which  con- 
stitutes the  very  fact  of  modern  history,  and  of  which  it  is 
full. 

Modern  Europe,  indeed,  is  born  of  this  struggle  between 
the  different  classes  of  society.  1  have  already  shown  that 
in  other  places  this  struggle  has  been  productive  of  very 
different  consequences:  in  Asia,  for  example,  one  partic- 
ular class  has  completely  triumphed,  and  the  system  of 
castes  has  succeeded  to  that  of  classes,  and  society  has 
there  fallen  into  a  state  of  immobility.  Nothing  of  this 
kind,  thank  God  !  has  taken  place  in  Europe.  One  of  the 
classes  has  not  conquered,  has  not  brought  the  others  into 
subjection  :  no  class  has  been  able  to  overcome,  to  subju- 
gate the  others  ;  the  struggle,  instead  of  rendering  society 
stationary,  has  been  a  principal  cause  of  its  progress  ;  the  re- 
lations of  the  different  classes  with  one  another  ;  the  neces- 
sity of  combating  and  of  yielding  by  turns  ;  the  variety  of 
interests,  passions,  and  excitements  ;  the  desire  to  conquer 
Avithout  the. power  to  do  so  :  from  all  this  has  probably 
sprung  the  most  energetic,  the  most  productive  principle 
of  development  in  European  civilization.  This  struggle 
of  the  classes  has  been  constant  ;  enmity  has  grown  up 
between  them  ;  the  infinite  diversity  of  situation,  of  inter- 
ests, and  of  manners,  has  produced  a  strong  moral  hostil- 
ity ;  yet  they  have  progressively  approached,  assimilated, 
and  understood  each  other;  every  country  of  Europe  has 
seen  arise  and  develop  itself  within  it  a  certain  public 
mind,  a  certain  community  of  interests,  of  ideas,  of  sen- 
timents, which  have  triumphed  over  this  diversity  and 
war.  In  France,  for  example,  in  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries,  the  moral  and  social  separation  of 
classes  was  still  very  profound,  yet  there  can  be  no  doubt 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  185 

but  that  their  fusion,  even  then,  was  far  advanced  ;  that 
even  then  there  was  a  real  French  nation,  not  consisting 
of  any  class  exclusively,  but  of  a  commixture  of  the 
whole  ;  all  animated  with  the  same  feeling,  actuated  by 
one  common  social  principle,  firmly  knit  together  by  the 
bond  of  nationality. 

Thus,  from  the  bosom  of  variety,  enmity,  and  discord, 
has  issued  that  national  unity,  now  become  so  conspicu- 
ous in  modern  Europe  ;  that  nationality  whose  tendency 
is  to  develop  and  purify  itself  more  and  more,  and  every 
day  to  increase  its  splendour. 

Such  are  the  great,  the  important,  the  conspicuous  so- 
cial effects  of  the  revolution  which  now  occupies  our  at- 
tention. Let  us  now  endeavour  to  show  what  were  its 
moral  effects;  what  changes  it  produced  in  the  minds  of  the 
citizens  themselves,  what  they  became  in  consequence,  and 
what  they  should  morally  become,  in  their  new  situation. 

When  we  take  into  our  consideration  the  connection  of 
the  citizens  with  the  state  in  general,  with  the  government 
of  the  state,  and  with  the  interests  of  the  country,  as  that 
connection  existed  not  only  in  the  twelfth  century,  but  also 
in  after  ages, — there  is  one  circumstance  which  must 
strike  us  most  forcibly  :  I  mean  the  extraordinary  mental 
timidity  of  the  citizens  j  their  humility  ;  the  excessive 
modesty  of  their  pretensions  to  a  right  of  interference  in 
the  government  of  their  country  5  and  the  little  matter 
that,  in  this  respect,  contented  them.  Nothing  was  to  be 
seen  in  them  which  discovered  that  genuine  political  feel- 
ing, which  aspires  to  the  possession  of  influence,  and  to 
the  power  of  reforming  and  governing  ;  nothing  attests  in 
them  either  energy  of  mind,  or  loftiness  of  ambition :  one 
feels  ready  to  exclaim,  Poor,  prudent,  simple-hearted  citi- 
zens. 

There  are  not,  properly,  more  than  two  sources  whence, 
in  the  political  world,  can  flow  loftiness  of  ambition  and 
16* 


186  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

energy  of  mind.  There  must  be  either  the  feeling  of  pos- 
sessing a  great  importance,  a  great  power  over  the  desti- 
ny of  others,  and  this  over  a  large  sphere  ;  or  there  must 
be  in  one's  self  a  powerful  feeling  of  perfect  personal  inde- 
pendence, the  assurance  of  one's  own  liberty,  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  a  destiny  with  which  no  will  can 
intermeddle  beyond  that  in  one's  own  bosom.  To  one  or 
other  of  these  two  conditions  seem  to  be  attached  energy 
of  mind,  the  loftiness  of  ambition,  the  desire  to  act  in  a 
large  sphere,  and  to  obtain  corresponding  results 

Neither  of  these  conditions  is  to  be  found  in  the  situa- 
tion of  the  burgesses  of  the  middle  ages.  These  were, 
as  we  have  just  seen,  only  important  to  themselves;  ex- 
cept within  the  walls  of  their  own  city,  their  influence 
amounted  to  but  little  ;  as  regarded  the  state,  to  almost 
nothing.  Nor  could  they  be  possessed  of  any  great  feel- 
ing of  personal  independence  :  their  having  conquered — 
their  having  obtained  a  charter,  did  but  little  in  the  way  of 
promoting  this  noble  sentiment.  The  burgess  of  a  city 
comparing  himself  with  the  little  baron  who  dwelt  near 
him,  and  who  had  just  been  vanquished  by  him,  would  still 
be  sensible  of  his  own  extreme  inferiority ;  he  was  igno- 
rant of  that  proud  sentiment  of  independence  which  ani- 
mated the  proprietor  of  a  fief;  the  share  of  freedom  which 
he  possessed  was  not  derived  from  himself  alone,  but  from 
his  association  with  others — from  the  difficult  and  preca- 
rious succour  which  they  afTorded.  Hence  that  retiring 
disposition,  that  timidity  of  mind,  that  trembling  shyness, 
that  humility  of  speech  (though  perhaps  coupled  with 
firmness  of  purpose),  which  is  so  deeply  stamped  on  the 
character  of  the  burgesses,  not  only  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, but  even  of  their  most  remote  descendants.  They 
had  no  taste  for  great  enterprises  ;  if  chance  pushed  them 
into  such,  they  became  vexed  and  embarrassed ;  any  re- 
sponsibility was  a  burthen  to  them  ;  they  felt  themselves 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN   EUROPE.  187 

out  of  their  sphere,  and  endeavoured  to  return  into  it  ; 
they  treated  upon  easy  terms.  Thus,  in  running  over  the 
history  of  Europe,  and  especially  of  France,  we  may 
occasionally  find  municipal  communities  esteemed,  con- 
sulted, perhaps  respected,  but  rarely  feared ;  they  seldom 
impressed  their  adversaries  with  the  notion  that  they  were 
a  great  and  formidable  power,  a  power  truly  political. 
There  is  nothing  to  be  astonished  at  in  the  weakness  of 
the  modern  burgess  ;  the  great  cause  of  it  may  be  traced 
to  his  origin,  in  those  circumstances  of  his  enfranchise- 
ment which  I  have  just  placed  before  you.  The  loftiness  of 
ambition,  independent  of  social  conditions,  breadth  and 
boldness  of  political  views,  the  desire  to  be  employed  in 
public  affairs,  the  full  consciousness  of  the  greatness  of 
man,  considered  as  such,  and  of  the  power  that  belongs  to 
him,  if  he  be  capable  of  exercising  it ;  it  is  these  senti- 
ments, these  dispositions,  which,  of  entirely  modern 
growth  in  Europe,  are  the  offspring  of  modern  civilization, 
and  of  that  glorious  and  powerful  generality  which  char- 
acterizes it,  and  which  will  never  fail"  to  secure  to  the 
public  an  influence,  a  weight  in  the  government  of  the 
country,  that  were  constantly  wanting,  and  deservedly 
wanting,  to  the  burgesses  our  ancestors. 

As  a  set-off  to  this,  in  the  contests  which  they  had  to 
sustain  respecting  their  local  interests — in  this  narrow 
field,  they  acquired  and  displayed  a  degree  of  energy,  de- 
votedness,  perseverance  and  patience,  which  has  never 
been  surpassed.  The  difficulty  of  the  enterprise  was  so 
great,  they  had  to  struggle  against  such  perils,  that  a  dis- 
play of  courage  almost  beyond  example  became  necessary. 
Our  notions  of  the  burgess  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
centuries,  and  of  his  life,  are  very  erroneous.  The  picture 
which  Sir  Walter  Scott  has  drawn  in  Quentin  Durward  of 
the  burgomaster  of  Liege,  fat,  inactive,  without  experience, 
without  daring,  and  caring  for  nothing  but  passing  his  life 
in  ease  and  enjoyment,  is  only  fitted  for  the  stage  j  the 


188  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

real  burgess  of  that  day  had  a  coat  of  mail  continually  on 
his  hack,  a  pike  constantly  in  his  hand  ;  his  life  was  nearly 
as  stormy,  as  warlike,  as  rigid  as  that  of  the  nobles  with 
whom  he  contended.  It  was  in  these  every-day  perils,  in 
combating  the  varied  dangers  of  practical  life,  that  he 
acquired  that  bold  and  masculine  character,  that  deter- 
mined exertion,  which  have  become  more  rare  in  the 
softer  activity  of  modern  times. 

None,  however,  of  these  social  and  moral  effects  of  the 
enfranchisement  of  corporations  became  fully  developed 
in  the  twelfth  century  ;  it  is  only  in  the  course  of  the  two 
following  centuries  that  they  showed  themselves  so  as  to 
be  clearly  discerned.  It  is  nevertheless  certain  that  the 
seeds  of  these  effects  existed  in  the  primary  situation  of 
the  commons,  in  the  mode  of  their  enfranchisement,  and 
in  the  position  which  the  burgesses  from  that  time  took  in 
society  ;  I  think,  therefore,  that  I  have  done  right  in  bring- 
ing these  circumstances  before  you  to-daj^  Let  us  now 
penetrate  into  the  interior  of  one  of  those  corporate  cities 
of  the  twelfth  century,  that  Vv^e  may  see  hoAv  it  was  gov- 
erned, that  we  may  now  see  what  principles  and  what 
facts  prevailed  in  the  relations  of  the  burgesses  with  one 
another.  It  must  be  remembered,  that  in  speaking  of  the 
municipal  system  bequeathed  by  the  Roman  empire  to  the 
modern  world,  I  took  occasion  to  say,  that  the  Roman 
world  was  a  great  coalition  of  municipalities,  which  had 
previously  been  as  sovereign  and  independent  as  Rome 
itself.  Each  of  these  cities  had  formerly  been  in  the 
game  condition  as  Rome,  a  little  free  republic,  making 
peace  and  war,  and  governing  itself  by  its  own  will.  As 
fast  as  these  became  incorporated  into  the  Roman  world, 
those  rights  which  constitute  sovereignty — the  right  of 
war  and  peace,  of  legislation,  taxation,  &c. — were  trans- 
ferred from  each  city  to  the  central  government  at  Rome. 
There  remained  then  but  one  municipal  sovereignty.  Rome 
reigned  over  a  vast  number  of  municipalities,  which  had 


I 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  189 

nothing  left  beyond  a  civic  existence.  The  municipal 
system  became  essentially  changed  :  it  was  no  longer  a 
political  government,  but  simply  a  mode  of  administration. 
This  was  the  grand  revolution  which  was  consummated 
under  the  Roman  empire.  The  municipal  system  became 
a  mode  of  administration  ;  it  was  reduced  to  the  govern- 
ment of  local  affairs,  to  the  civic  interests  of  the  city. 
This  is  the  state  in  which  the  Roman  empire,  at  its  fall, 
left  the  cities  and  their  institutions.  Durino-  the  chaos  of 
barbarism,  notions  and  facts  of  all  sorts  became  embroiled 
and  confused  j  the  various  attributes  of  sovereignty  and 
administration  were  confounded.  Distinctions  of  this  na- 
ture were  no  longer  regarded.  Affairs  were  suffered  to 
run  on  in  the  course  dictated  by  necessity.  The  munici- 
palities became  sovereigns  or  administrators  in  the  various 
places,  as  need  might  require.  AVhere  cities  rebelled, 
they  re-assumed  the  sovereignty,  for  the  sake  of  security, 
not  out  of  respect  for  any  political  theory,  nor  from  any 
feeling  of  their  dignity,  but  that  they  might  have  the  means 
of  contending  with  the  nobles,  whose  yoke  they  had  thrown 
off;  that  they  might  take  upon  themselves  the  right  to  call 
out  the  militia,  to  tax  themselves  to  support  the  war,  to 
name  their  own  chiefs  and  magistrates;  in  a  word  to  govern 
themselves.  The  internal  government  of  the  city  was 
their  means  of  defence,  of  security.  Thus,  sovereignty 
again  returned  to  the  municipal  system,  which  had  been 
deprived  of  it  by  the  conquests  of  Rome.  City  corpora- 
tions again  became  sovereigns.  This  is  the  political 
characteristic  of  their  enfranchisement. 

I  do  not,  however,  mean  to  assert,  that  this  sovereignty 
was  complete.  Some  trace  of  an  exterior  sovereignty  al- 
ways may  be  found ;  sometimes  it  was  the  baron  who  re- 
tained the  right  to  send  a  magistrate  into  the  city,  with 
whom  the  municipal  magistrates  acted  as  assessors  ;  per- 
haps he  had  the  right  to  collect  certain  revenues  ;  in  some 


190  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

cases  a  fixed  tribute  was  assured  to  him.  Sometimes  the 
exterior  sovereignty  of  the  community  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  king. 

The  cities,  themselves,  in  their  turn,  entered  into  the 
feudal  system  ;  they  had  vassals,  and  became  suzerains ; 
and  by  this  title  possessed  that  portion  of  sovereignty  which 
was  inherent  in  the  suzerainty.  A  great  confusion  arose 
between  the  rights  which  they  held  from  their  feudal  po- 
sition, and  those  which  they  had  acquired  by  their  insur- 
rection ;  and  by  this  double  title  they  held  the  sov^ereignty. 

Let  us  see,  as  far  as  the  very  scanty  sources  left  us  will 
allow,  how  the  internal  government  of  the  cities,  at  least  in 
the  more  early  times,  was  managed.  The  entire  body  of 
the  inhabitants  formed  the  communal  assembly  ;  all  those 
who  had  taken  the  communal  oath — and  all  who  dwelt 
wdthin  the  walls  were  obliged  to  do  so — were  summoned, 
by  the  tolling  of  the  bell,  to  the  general  assembly.  In  this 
was  named  the  magistrates.  The  number  chosen,  and  the 
power  and  proceedings  of  the  magistrates,  differed  very 
considerably.  After  choosing  the  magistrates,  the  as- 
semblies dissolved ;  and  the  magistrates  governed  almost 
alone,  sufficiently  arbitrarily,  being  under  no  farther  res- 
ponsibility than  the  new  elections,  or,  perhaps,  popular 
outbreaks,  which  were,  at  this  time,  the  great  guarantee 
for  good  government. 

You  will  observe,  that  the  internal  organization  of  the 
municipal  towns  is  reduced  to  two  very  simple  elements, 
the  general  assembly  of  the  inhabitants,  and  a  government 
invested  w^ith  almost  arbitrary  power,  under  the  responsi- 
bility of  insurrections, — general  outbreaks.  It  was  impos- 
sible, especially  while  such  manners  prevailed,  to  establish 
any  thing  like  a  regular  government,  with  proper  guaran- 
tees of  order  and  duration.  The  greater  part  of  the  popula- 
tion of  these  cities  were  ignorant,  brutal,  and  savage  to  a 
degree  which  rendered  them  exceedingly  difficult  to  gov- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  191 

ern.  At  the  end  of  a  very  short  period,  there  was  but 
little  more  security  within  these  communities  than  there 
had  been,  previously,  in  the  relations  of  the  burgess- 
es within  the  baron.  There  soon,  however,  became 
formed  a  burgess  aristocracy.  The  causes  of  this  are 
easily  understood.  The  notions  of  that  day,  coupled 
with  certain  social  relations,  led  to  the  establishment 
of  trading  companies  legally  constituted.  A  system 
of  privileges  became  introduced  into  the  interior  of 
the  cities,  and,  in  the  end,  a  great  inequality.  There 
soon  grew  up  in  all  of  them  a  certain  number  of  con- 
siderable, opulent  burgesses,  and  a  population,  more 
or  less  numerous,  of  workmen,  who,  notwithstanding 
their  inferiority,  had  no  small  influence  in  the  affairs 
of  the  community.  The  free  cities  thus  became  divided 
into  an  upper  class  of  burgesses,  and  a  population  subject 
to  all  the  errors,  all  the  vices  of  a  mob.  The  superior 
citizens  thus  found  themselves  pressed  between  two  great 
difKculties:  first,  the  arduous  one  of  governing  this  in- 
ferior turbulent  population  ;  and  secondly,  that  of  with- 
standing the  continual  attempts  of  the  ancient  master  of 
the  borough,  Vv^ho  sought  to  regain  his  former  power. 
Such  was  the  situation  of  their  affairs,  not  only  in  France, 
but  in  Europe,  down  to  the  sixteenth  century.  This,  per- 
haps, is  the  cause  which  prevented  these  communities 
from  taking,  in  several  countries  of  Europe,  and  especially 
in  France,  that  high  political  station  which  seemed  prop- 
erly to  belong  to  them.  Two  spirits  were  unceasingly  at 
w^ork  within  them :  among  the  inferior  population,  a  blind, 
licentious,  furious  spirit  of  democracy;  among  the  supe- 
rior burgesses,  a  spirit  of  timidity,  of  caution,  and  an  ex- 
cessive desire  to  accommodate  all  differences,  whether 
with  the  king,  or  with  its  ancient  proprietors,  so  as  to 
preserve  peace  and  order  in  the  bosom  of  the  community. 
Neither  of  these  spirits  could  raise  the  cities  to  a  high 
rank  in  the  state. 


192  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

All  these  effects  did  not  become  apparent  in  the  twelfth 
century  ;  still  we  may  foresee  them,  even  in  the  character 
of  the  insurrection,  in  the  manner  in  which  it  broke  out,  in 
the  state  of  the  different  elements  of  the  city  population. 

Such,  if  I  mistake  not,  are  the  principal  characteristics, 
the  general  results,  both  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the 
cities  and  of  their  internal  government.  I  have  already 
premised,  that  these  facts  were  not  so  uniform,  not  so  uni- 
versal, as  I  have  represented  them.  There  are  great  diver- 
sities in  the  history  of  the  European  free  cities.  In  the 
south  of  France  and  in  Italy,  for  example,  the  Roman  mu- 
nicipal system  prevailed  ;  the  population  was  not  nearly  so 
divided,  so  unequal,  as  in  the  north.  Here,  also,  the  mu- 
nicipal organization  was  much  better  ;  perhaps  the  effect  of 
Roman  traditions,  perhaps  of  the  better  state  of  the  popula- 
tion. In  the  north,  it  was  the  feudal  system  that  prevailed 
in  the  city  arrangements.  Here  all  seemed  subordinate  to 
the  struggle  against  the  barons.  The  cities  of  the  south 
paid  much  more  regard  to  their  internal  constitution,  to 
the  work  of  melioration  and  progress.  We  see,  from 
the  beginning,  that  they  wall  become  free  republics.  The 
career  of  those  of  the  north,  above  all  those  of  France, 
showed  itself,  from  the  first,  more  rude,  more  incomplete, 
destined  to  less  perfect,  less  beautiful  developments.  If 
we  run  over  those  of  Germany,  Spain,  and  England,  w^e 
shall  find  among  them  many  other  differences.  I  cannot 
particularize  them,  but  shall  notice  some  of  them  as  we 
advance  in  the  history  of  civilization.  All  things  at  their 
origin  are  nearly  confounded  in  one  and  the  same  physi- 
ognomy ;  it  is  only  in  their  aftergrowth  that  their  variety 
shows  itself.  Then  begins  a  new  development  which 
urges  forward  societies  towards  that  free  and  lofty  unity, 
the  glorious  object  of  the  efforts  and  wishes  of  mankind. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  193 


LECTURE   VIII. 

SKETCH    OF    EUROPEAN    CIVILIZATION STATE   OF    EUROPE    FR03I 

THE    TWELFTH    TO    THE    FOURTEENTH    CENTURIES THE  CRU- 
SADES. 

I  HAVE  not  yet  laid  before  you  the  whole  plan  of  my 
course.  I  began  by  pointing  out  its  object,  and  I  then 
v/ent  straight  forward,  without  taking  any  comprehensive 
view  of  European  civilization,  and  without  indicating  at 
once  its  starting-point,  its  path,  and  its  goal, — its  beginning, 
middle,  and  end.  We  are  now,  however,  arrived  at  a  pe- 
riod when  this  comprehensive  view,  this  general  outline,  of 
the  world  through  which  we  travel,  becomes  necessary. 
The  times  which  have  hitherto  been  the  subject  of  our 
study,  are  explained  in  some  measure  by  themselves,  or  by 
clear  and  immediate  results.  The  times  into  which  we  are 
about  to  enter  can  neither  be  understood  nor  excite  any 
strong  interest,  unless  we  connect  them  with  their  most 
indirect  and  remote  consequences.  In  an  inquiry  of  such 
vast  extent,  a  time  arrives  when  we  can  no  longer  submit 
to  go  forward  with  a  dark  and  unknown  path  before  us  j 
when  we  desire  to  know  not  only  whence  we  have  come 
and  where  we  are,  but  whither  we  are  going.  This  is  now 
the  case  with  us.  The  period  which  we  approach  cannot 
be  understood,  or  its  importance  appreciated,  unless  by 
means  of  the  relations  which  connect  it  with  modern 
times.  Its  true  spirit  has  been  revealed  only  by  the  lapse 
of  many  subsequent  ages. 

We  are  in  possession  of  almost  all  the  essential  elements 

of  European  civilization.     I  say  almost  all,  because  I  have 

not  yet  said  any  thing  on  the  subject  of  monarchy.     The 

crisis  which  decidedly  developed  the  monarchical  princi- 

17 


194  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

pie  hardly  took  place  before  the  twelfth  or  even  the  thir- 
teenth century.  It  was  then  only  that  the  institution  of 
monarchy  was  really  established,  and  began  to  occupy  a 
definite  place  in  modern  society.  It  is  on  this  account  that 
I  have  not  sooner  entered  on  the  subject.  With  this  ex- 
ception we  possess,  I  repeat  it,  all  the  great  elements  of 
European  society.  You  have  seen  the  origin  of  the  feudal 
aristocracy,  the  Church,  and  the  municipalities  ;  you  have 
observed  the  institutions  which  would  naturally  correspond 
with  these  facts  ;  and  not  only  the  institutions,  but  the 
principles  and  ideas  which  these  facts  naturally  give  rise 
to.  Thus,  with  reference  to  feudalism,  you  have  watched 
the  origin  of  modern  domestic  life  ;  you  have  comprehend- 
ed, in  all  its  energy,  the  feeling  of  personal  independence, 
and  the  place  which  it  must  have  occupied  in  our  civiliza- 
tion. With  reference  to  the  Church,  you  have  observed 
the  appearance  of  the  purely  religious  form  of  society,  its 
relations  with  civil  society,  the  principle  of  theocracy,  the 
separation  between  the  spiritual  and  temporal  powers,  the 
first  blows  of  persecution,  the  first  cries  of  liberty  of 
conscience.  The  infant  municipalities  have  given  you  a 
view  of  a  social  union  founded  on  principles  quite  differ- 
ent from  those  of  feudalism ;  the  diversity  of  the  classes 
of  society,  their  contests  with  each  other,  the  first  and 
strongly  marked  features  of  the  manners  of  the  modern 
inhabitants  of  towns  ;  timidity  of  judgment  combined  w4th 
energy  of  soul,  proneness  to  be  excited  by  demagogues 
joined  to  a  spirit  of  obedience  to  legal  authority  ;  all  the 
elements,  in  short,  which  have  concurred  in  the  formation 
of  European  society  have  already  come  under  your  obser- 
vation. 

Let  us  now  transport  ourselves  into  the  heart  of  modern 
Europe  ;  I  do  not  mean  Europe  in  the  present  day,  after 
the  prodigious  metamorphosis  we  have  witnessed,  but  in 
the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries.     What  an  im- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN   EUROPE.  195 

mense  difference  !  I  have  already  insisted  on  this  differ- 
ence with  reference  to  communities  ;  I  have  endeavoured 
to  show  you  how  little  resemblance  there  is  between  the 
burgesses  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  those  of  the 
twelfth.  Make  the  same  experiment  on  feudalism  and  the 
Church,  and  you  will  be  struck  with  a  similar  metamor- 
phosis. There  was  no  more  resemblance  between  the 
nobility  of  the  court  of  Louis  XV.  and  the  feudal  aristo- 
cracy, or  between  the  Church  in  the  days  of  Cardinal  de 
Bernis  and  those  of  the  Abbe  Suger,  than  there  is  between 
the  burgesses  of  the  eighteenth  centurj^  and  the  same 
class  in  the  twelfth.  Between  these  two  periods,  though 
society  had  already  acquired  all  its  elements,  it  underwent 
a  total  transformation. 

I  am  now  desirous  to  trace  clearly  the  general  and  es- 
sential character  of  this  transformation. 

From  the  fifth  century,  society  contained  all  that  I  have 
already  found  and  described  as  belonging  to  it, — kings,  a 
lay  aristocracy,  a  clergy,  citizens,  husbandmen,  civil  and 
religious  authorities  ;  the  germs,  in  short,  of  every  thing 
necessary  to  form  a  nation  and  a  government;  and  yet 
there  was  no  government,  no  nation.  In  all  the  period 
that  has  occupied  our  attention,  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  a  people,  properly  so  called,  or  a  government,  in  the 
modern  acceptation  of  the  word.  We  have  fallen  in  with 
a  number  of  particular  forces,  special  facts,  and  local  in- 
stitutions ;  but  nothing  general,  nothing  public,  nothing 
political,  nothing,  in  short,  like  real  nationality. 

Let  us,  on  the  other  hand,  survey  Europe  in  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries  :  we  everywhere  see  two 
great  objects  make  their  appearance  on  the  stage  of  the 
world, — the  government  and  the  people.  The  influence  of 
a  general  power  over  an  entire  country,  and  the  influence 
of  the  country  in  the  power  which  governs  it,  are  the  mate- 
rials of  history  ;  the  relations  between  these  great  forces, 
their  alliances  or  their  contests,  are  the  subjects  of  itsnar- 


196  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

ration.  The  nobility,  the  clergy,  the  citizens,  all  these  dif- 
ferent classes  and  particular  powers  are  thrown  into  the 
back-ground,  and  effaced,  as  it  were,  by  these  two  great 
objects,  the  people  and  its  government. 

This,  if  I  am  not  deceived,  is  the  essential  feature 
which  distinguishes  modern  Europe  from  the  Europe  of 
the  early  ages ;  and  this  was  the  change  which  was  ac- 
complished between  the  thirteenth  and  the  sixteenth 
century. 

It  is,  then,  in  the  period  from  the  thirteenth  to  the  six- 
teenth century,  into  which  we  are  about  to  enter,  that  we 
must  endeavour  to  find  the  cause  of  this  change.  It  is 
the  distinctive  character  of  this  period,  that  it  was  em- 
ployed in  changing  Europe  from  its  primitive  to  its  mod- 
ern state  ;  and  hence  arise  its  importance  and  historical 
interest.  If  we  did  not  consider  it  under  this  point  of 
view,  if  we  did  not  endeavour  to  discover  the  events 
which  arose  out  of  this  period,  not  only  we  should  never 
be  able  to  comprehend  it,  but  we  should  soon  become 
weary  of  the  inquiry. 

Viewed  in  itself  and  apart  from  its  results,  it  is  a  period 
without  character,  a  period  in  which  confusion  went  on 
increasing  without  apparent  causes,  a  period  of  move- 
ment without  direction,  of  agitation  without  result ;  a  pe- 
riod when  monarchy,  nobility,  clergy,  citizens,  all  the  ele- 
ments of  social  order,  seemed  to  turn  round  in  the  same 
circle,  incapable  alike  of  progression  and  of  rest.  Exper- 
iments of  all  kinds  were  made  and  failed  ;  endeavours 
were  made  to  establish  governments  and  lay  the  founda- 
tions of  public  liberty  ;  reforms  in  religion  were  even 
attempted  ;  but  nothing  was  accomplished  or  came  to  any 
result.  If  ever  the  human  race  seemed  destined  to  be 
always  agitated,  and  yet  always  stationary,  condemned  to 
unceasing  and  yet  barren  labours,  it  was  from  the  thir- 
teenth to  the  fifteenth  century  that  this  was  the  complex- 
ion of  its  condition  and  history. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  197' 

I  am  acquainted  only  with  one  work  in  which  this  ap- 
pearance of  the  period  in  question  is  faithfully  described  j 
I  allude  to  M.  de  Barante's  History  of  the  Dukes  of  Bur- 
gundy. I  do  not  speak  of  the  fidelity  of  his  pictures  of 
manners  and  narratives  of  adventures,  but  of  that  gene- 
ral fidelity  which  renders  the  work  an  exact  image,  a  true 
mirror  of  the  whole  period,  of  which  it  at  the  same  time 
displays  both  the  agitation  and  the  monotony. 

Considered,  on  the  contrary,  in  relation  to  what  has 
succeeded  it,  as  the  transition  from  Europe  in  its  primi- 
tive, to  Europe,  in  its  modern  state,  this  period  assumes 
a  more  distinct  and  animated  aspect ;  we  discover  in  it  a 
unity  of  design,  a  movement  in  one  direction,  a  progres- 
sion ;  and  its  unity  and  interest  are  found  to  reside  in  the 
slow  and  hidden  labour  accomplished  in  the  course  of  its 
duration. 

The  history  of  European  civilization,  then,  may  be 
thrown  into  three  great  periods :  first,  a  period  which  I 
shall  call  that  of  origin,  or  formation  ;  during  which  the 
different  elemrents  of  society  disengage  themselves  from 
chaos,  assume  an  existence,  and  show  themselves  in  their 
native  forms,  with  the  principles  by  which  they  are  ani- 
mated ;  this  period  lasted  almost  to  the  t^i'^lfth  century. 
The  second  period  is  a  period  of  experiments,  attempts, 
groping  J*  the  different  elements  of  society  approach  and 
enter  into  combination,  feelings  each  other,  as  it  were,  but 
without  producing  any  thing  general,  regular,  or  durable  ; 
this  state  of  things,  to  say  the  truth,  did  not  terminate  till 
the  sixteenth  century.  Then  comes  the  third  period,  or 
the  period  of  development,  in  which  human  society  in 
Europe  takes  a  definite  form,  follows  a  determinate  direc- 
tion, proceeds  rapidly  and  with  a  general  movement,  to- 
wards a  clear  and  precise  object ;  this  is  the  period  which 
began  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  is  now  pursuing  its 
course. 

17* 


198  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Such  appears,  on  a  genera}  view,  to  be  the  aspect  of 
European  civilization.  We  are  now  about  to  enter  into 
the  second  of  the  above  periods  ;  and  we  have  to  inquire 
what  were  the  great  and  critical  events  which  occurred 
during  its  course,  and  which  were  the  determining  causes 
of  the  social  transformation  which  was  its  result  1 

The  first  great  event  which  presents  itself  to  our  view, 
and  which  opened,^  so  to  speak,  the  period  we  are  speak- 
ing of,  was  the  crusades.  They  began  at  the  end  of  the 
eleventh  century,  and  lasted  during  the  twelfth  and  thir- 
teenth. It  was,  indeed,  a  great  event ;  for,  since  its  oc- 
currence, it  has  never  ceased  to  occupy  the  attention  ol] 
philosophical  historians,  who  have  sho^An  themselves 
aware  of  its  influence  in  changing  the  conditions  of  na- 
tions, and  of  the  necessity  of  study  in  order  to  compre- 
hend the  general  course  of  its  facts. 

The  first  character  of  the  crusades  is  their  universality  : 
all  Europe  concurred  in  them ;  they  were  the  first  Euro- 
pean event.  Before  the  crusades,  Europe  had  never 
been  moved  by  the  same  sentiment,  or  acted  in  a  common 
cause  ;  till  then,  in  fact,  Europe  did  not  exist.  The  cru- 
sades made  manifest  the  existence  of  Christian  Europe. 
The  French  formed  the  main  body  of  the  first  army  of 
crusaders;  but  there  were  also  Germans,  Italians,  Spah- 
iards,  and  English.  But  look  at  the  second  and  third 
crusades,  and  we  find  all  the  nations  of  Christendom 
engaged  in  them.  The  world  had  never  before  witnessed 
a  similar  combination,. 

But  this  is  not  all.  In  the  same  manner  as  the  crusades 
were  a  European  event,  so,  in  each  separate  nation,  they 
were  a  national  event.  In  every  nation,  all  classes  of  so-, 
ciety  were  animated  with  the  same  impression,.yielded  to 
the  same  idea,  and  abandoned  themselves  to  the  same  im- 
pulse. Kings,  nobles,  priests,  citizens,  country  people,, 
?.ll  took  the  same  interest  and  the  same  share  in  the  cru-. 


CIVILIZATI03J    IxN    MOUEK.N    EUROPE.  199 

sades.     The  moral  unity  of  nations  was  thus  made  mani- 
fest ;  a  fact  as  new  as  the  unity  of  Europe. 

When  such  events  take  place  in  w^hat  may  be  called  the 
youth  of  nations  ;  in  periods  when  they  act  spontaneously, 
freely, without  premeditation  or  political  design,  we  recog- 
nise what  history  calls  heroic  events,  the  heroic  ages  of 
nations.  The  crusades  w^ere  the  heroic  event  of  modern 
Europe  ;  a  movement  at  the  same  time  individual  and 
general ;  national,  and  yet  not  under  political  direction. 

That  this  was  really  their  primitive  character  is  proved 
by  every  fact,  and  every  document.  Who  were  the  first 
crusaders  %  Bands  of  people  w^ho  set  out  under  the  con- 
duct of  Peter  the  Hermit,  without  preparations,  guides, 
or  leaders,  followed  rather  than  led  by  a  few  obscure 
knights,  traversed  Germany  and  the  Greek  empire,  and 
were  dispersed,  or  perished,  in  Asia  Minor. 

The  higher  class,  the  feudal  nobility,  next  put  them- 
selves in  motion  for  the  crusade.  Under  the  command  of 
Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  the  nobles  and  their  men  departed 
full  of  ardour.  When  they  had  traversed  Asia  Minor, 
the  leaders  of  the  crusaders  were  seized  with  a  fit  of 
lukewarmness  and  fatigue.  They  became  indifferent 
about  continuing  their  course  j  they  were  inclined  rather 
to  look  to  their  own  interest,  to  make  conquests  and  pos- 
sess them.  The  mass  of  the  army,  however,  rose  up, 
and  insisted  on  marching  to  Jerusalem,  the  deliverance  of 
the  holy  city  being  the  object  of  the  crusade.  It  was  not 
to  gain  principalities  for  Raymond  of  Toulouse,  or  for 
Bohemond,  or  any  other  leader,  that  the  crusaders  had 
taken  arms.  The  popular,  national,  European  impulse 
overcame  all  the  intentions  of  individuals ;  and  the  lead- 
ers had  not  sufficient  ascendency  over  the  masses  to  make 
them  yield  to  their  personal  interests.  The  sovereigns, 
who  had  been  strangers  to  the  first  crusade,  were  now- 
drawn  into  the  general  movement  as  the  people  had  been. 


200  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

The  great  crusades  of  the  twelfth  century  were  com- 
manded by  kmgs. 

I  now  go  at  once  to  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
A  great  deal  was  still  said  in  Europe  about  crusades,  and 
they  were  even  preached  with  ardour.  The  popes  excited 
the  sovereigns  and  the  people;  councils  were  held  to  re- 
commend the  conquest  of  the  holy  land  f  but  no  expedi- 
tions of  any  importance  were  now  undertaken  for  this 
purpose,  and  it  was  regarded  with  general  indifference. 
Something  had  entered  into  the  spirit  of  European  society 
which  put  an  end  to  the  crusades.  Some  private  expedi- 
tions still  took  place ;  some  nobles  and  some  bands  of 
troops  still  continued  to  depart  for  Jerusalem  ;  but  the 
general  movement  was  evidently  arrested.  Neither  the 
necessity,  however,  nor  its  facility  of  continuing  it,  seem- 
ed to  have  ceased.  The  Moslems  triumphed  more  and 
more  in  Asia.  The  Christian  kingdom  founded  at  Jerusa- 
lem had  fallen  into  their  hands.  It  still  appeared  neces^ 
sary  to  regain  it;  and  the  means  of  success  were  greater 
than  at  the  commencement  of  the  crusades.  A  great 
number  of  Christians  were  established  and  still  powerful 
in  Asia  Minor,  Syria,  and  Palestine.  The  proper  means 
of  transport,  and  of  carrying  on  the  war,  were  better 
known.  Still,  nothing  could  revive  the  spirit  of  the  cru- 
sades. It  is  evident  that  the  two  great  forces  of  society 
— the  sovereigns  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  people  on  the 
other — no  longer  desired  their  continuance. 

It  has  been  often  said  that  Europe  was  weary  of  these 
constant  inroads  upon  Asia.  We  must  come  to  an  under- 
standing as  to  the  meaning  of  the  word  vjeariness,  frequent- 
ly used  on  such  occasions.  It  is  exceedingly  incorrect. 
It  is  not  true  that  generations  of  mankind  can  be  weary 
of  what  has  not  been  done  by  themselves  ;  that  they  can  be 
wearied  by  the  fatigues  of  their  fathers.  Weariness  is  per- 
gonal :  it  cannot  be  transmitted  like  an  inheritance.     The 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  201 

people  of  the  thirteenth  century  were  not  weary  of  the 
crusades  of  the  twelfth  j  they  were  influenced  by  a  different 
cause.  A  great  change  had  taken  place  in  opinions,  sen- 
timents, and  social  relations.  There  were  no  longer  the 
same  wants,  or  the  same  desires :  the  people  no  longer 
believed,  or  wished  to  believe,  in  the  same  things.  It  is 
by  these  moral  or  political  changes,  and  not  by  weariness, 
that  the  differences  in  the  conduct  of  successive  genera- 
tions can  be  explained.  The  pretended  weariness  ascrib- 
ed to  them  is  a  metaphor  wholly  destitute  of  truth. 

Two  great  causes,  the  one  moral,  the  other  social,  im- 
pelled Europe  into  the  crusades. 

The  moral  cause,  as  you  are  aware,  was  the  impulse  of 
religious  feeling  and  belief.  From  the  end  of  the  seventh 
century,Christianity  maintained  a  constant  struggle  against 
Mohammedanism.  It  had  overcome  Mohammedanism  in 
Europe,  after  having  been  threatened  with  great  danger 
from  it  5  and  had  succeeded  in  confining  it  to  Spain.  Even 
from  thence  the  expulsion  of  Mohammedanism  was  con- 
stantly attempted.  The  crusades  have  been  represented 
as  a  sort  of  accident,  an  unforeseen  event,  sprung  from  the 
recitals  of  pilgrims  returned  from  Jerusalem,  and  the 
preaching  of  Peter  the  Hermit.  They  were  nothing  of  the 
kind.  The  crusades  were  the  continuation,  the  height  of 
the  great  struggle  which  had  subsisted  for  four  centuries 
between  Christianity  and  Mohammedanism.  The  theatre 
of  this  contest  had  hitherto  been  in  Europe  ;  it  was  now 
transported  into  Asia.  If  I  had  attached  any  value  to 
those  comparisons,  those  parallels,  into  which  historical 
facts  are  sometimes  made  willing  or  unwillingly  to  enter, 
I  might  show  you  Christianity  running  exactly  the  same 
course,  and  undergoing  the  same  destiny  in  Asia,  as  Mo- 
hammedanism in  Europe.  Mohammedanism  established 
itself  in  Spain,  where  it  conquered,  founded  a  kingdom  and 
various  principalities.     The  Christians  did  the  same  thing 


202  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

in  Asia.  They  were  there  in  regard  to  the  Mohammedans, 
in  the  same  situation  as  the  Mohammedans  in  Spain,  -with 
regard  to  the  Christians.  The  kingdom  of  Jerusalem  cor- 
responds with  the  kingdom  af  Grenada  r  but  these  simili- 
tudes, after  all,  arc  of  little  importance.  The  great  fact 
was  the  struggle  between  the  two  religious  and  social  sys- 
tems: the  crusades  w-ere  its  principal  crisis.  This  is 
their  historical  character  ;  the  chain  which  connects  them 
with  the  general  course  of  events. 

Another  cause,  the  social  state  of  Europe  in  the  eleventh 
century,  equally  contributed  to  the  breaking  out  of  the 
crusades.  I  have  been  careful  to  explain  why,  from  the 
fifth  to  the  eleventh  century,  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
generality  in  Europe  ;  I  have  endeavoured  to  show  how 
every  thing  had  assumed  a  local  character ;  how  states, 
existing  institutions,  and  opinions  were  confined  within 
very  narrow  bounds :  it  was  then  that  the  feudal  system 
prevailed.  After  the  lapse  of  some  time,  such  a  narrow 
horizon  was  no  longer  sufficient ;  human  thought  and  ac- 
tivity aspired  to  pass  beyond  the  narrow  sphere  in  which 
they  were  confined.  The  people  no  longer  led  their  for- 
mer wandering  life,  but  had  not  lost  the  taste  for  its 
movement  and  its  adventures :  they  thre\v  themselves 
into  the  crusades  as  into  a  new  state  of  existence,  in 
which  they  were  more  at  large,  and  enjoyed  more  vari- 
ety; which  reminded  them  of  the  freedom  of  former  bar- 
barism, while  it  opened  boundless  prospects  of  futurity. 

These  w^ere,  in  my  opinion,  the  two  determining  causes 
of  the  crusades  in  the  twelfth  century.  At  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth,  neither  of  these  causes  continued  to  exist.  Man- 
kind  and  society  were  so  greatly  changed,  that  neither  the 
moral  nor  the  social  incitements  which  had  impelled 
Europe  upon  Asia  were  felt  any  longer.  I  do  not  know 
whether  many  of  you  have  read  the  original  historians  of 
the  crusades,  or  have  ever  thought  of  comparing  the  con- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  203 

temporary  chroniclers  of  the  first  crusades  with  those  of  the 
end  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  ;  for  example, 
Albert  d'Aix,  Robert  the  Monk,  and  Raynard  d'Arg-ile,  who 
were  engaged  in  the  first  crusade  with  William  of  Tyre 
and  Jacques  de  Vitry.     When  we    compare   these    two 
classes  of  writers,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  with 
the  distance  between  them.     The  first  are  animated  chron- 
iclers, whose  imagination  is  excited,   and  who  relate  the 
events  of  the  crusade  with  passion  :  but  they  are  narrow- 
minded  in  the  extreme,  without  an  idea  beyond  the  little 
sphere  in  which  they  liv^ed  ;  ignorant  of  every  science,  full 
of  prejudices,  incapable  of  forming  an  opinion  on  what  was 
passing  around  them,  or  the  events  which  were  the  sub- 
ject of  their  narratives.     But  open,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
history  of  the  crusades  by  William  of  Tyre,  and  you  will  be 
surprised  to  find  almost  a  modern  historian  ;  a  cultivated, 
enlarged,   and  liberal  mind,  great  political  intelligence, 
general  views,  and  opinions  upon  causes  and  effects.     Jac- 
ques de  Vitry  is  an  example  of  another  species  of  cultiva- 
tion J  he  is  a  man  of  learning,  who  does  not  confine  him- 
self to    what  immediately  concerns  the  crusades,  but  de- 
scribes the  state  of  manners,  the  geography,  the  religion, 
and  natural  history  of  the  country  to  which  his  history 
relates.     There  is,  in  short,  an  immense  distance  between 
the  historians  of  the  first  and  of  the  last  crusades ;  a  dis- 
tance which  manifests  an  actual  revolution  in  the  state  of 
the  human  mind. 

This  revolution  is  most  conspicuous  in  the  manner  in 
which  these  two  classes  of  writers  speak  of  the  Mohamme- 
dans. For  the  first-chroniclers, — and  consequently  for  the 
first  crusaders,  of  whose  sentiments  the  first  chroniclers 
are  merely  the  organs, — the  Mohammedans  are  only  an 
object  of  hatred ;  it  is  clear  that  those  who  speak  of  them 
do  not  know  them,  form  no  judgment  respecting  them, 
nor  consider  them  under  any  point  of  view  but  that  of  the 


204  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

religious  hostility  which  exists  between  them.  No  I'es" 
tige  of  social  relation  is  discoverable  between  them  and 
the  Mohammedans :  they  detest  them,  and  fight  with  them  ; 
and  nothing  more.  William  of  Tyre,  Jacques  de  Vitry, 
Bernard  le  Tresorier,  speak  of  the  Mussulmans  quite  dif- 
ferently. We  see  that,  even  while  fighting  with  them, 
they  no  longer  regard  them  as  monsters  ;  that  they  have 
entered  to  a  certain  extent  into  their  ideas,  that  they  have 
lived  with  them,  and  that  certain  social  relations,  and  even 
a  sort  of  sympathy,  have  arisen  between  them.  William 
of  Tyre  pronounces  a  glowing  eulogium  on  Noureddin, 
and  Bernard  le  Tresorier  on  Saladin.  They  sometimes 
even  go  the  length  of  placing  the  manners  and  conduct  of 
the  Mussulmans  in  opposition  to  those  of  the  Christians ; 
they  adopt  the  manners  and  sentiments  of  the  Mussulmans 
in  order  to  satirize  the  Christians,  in  the  same  manner  as 
Tacitus  delineated  the  manners  of  the  Germans  in  contrast 
with  those  of  Rome.  You  see,  then,  what  an  immense 
change  must  have  taken  place  between  these  two  periods, 
since  you  find  in  the  latter,  in  regard  to  the  very  enemies 
of  the  Christians,  the  very  people  against  whom  the  cru- 
sades were  directed,  an  impartiality  of  judgment  which 
would  have  filled  the  first  crusaders  with  surprise  and 
horror. 

The  principal  effect,  then,  of  the  crusades  was  a  great 
step  towards  the  emancipation  of  the  mind,  a  great  pro- 
gress towards  enlarged  and  liberal  ideas.  Though  begun 
under  the  name  and  influence  of  religious  belief,  the  cru- 
sades deprived  religious  ideas,  I  shall  not  say  of  their  le- 
gitimate share  of  influence,  but  of  their  exclusive  and 
despotic  possession  of  the  human  mind.  This  result, 
though  undoubtedly  unforeseen,  arose  from  various  causes. 
The  first  was  evidently  the  novelty,  extent,  and  variety 
of  the  scene  which  displayed  itself  to  the  crusaders;  what 
generally  happens  to  travellers  happened  to  them.     It  is 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  205 

mere  common-place  to  say,  that  travelling  gives  free- 
dom to  the  mind  ;  that  the  habit  of  observing  different 
nations,  different  manners,  and  different  opinions  en- 
larofcs  the  ideas,  and  disengfaffes  the  iudcrment  from 
old  prejudices.  The  same  thing  happened  to  those  na- 
tions of  travellers  who  have  been  called  the  crusaders; 
their  minds  were  opened  and  raised  by  having  seen 
a  multitude  of  different  things,  by  having  become  ac- 
quainted wnth  other  manners  than  their  own.  They 
found  themselves  also  placed  in  connexion  with  two  states 
of  civilization,  not  only  different  from  their  own,  but  more 
advanced — the  Greek  state  of  society  on  ihe  one  hand,  and 
the  Mussulman  on  the  other.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 
society  of  the  Greeks,  though  enervated,  perverted,  and 
decaying,  gave  the  crusaders  the  impression  of  something 
more  advanced,  polished,  and  enlightened  than  their  own. 
The  society  of  the  Mussulmans  presented  them  a  scene  of 
the  same  kind.  It  is  curious  to  observe  in  the  chronicles 
the  impression  made  by  the  crusaders  on  the  Mussulmans, 
who  regarded  them  at  first  as  the  most  brutal,  ferocious, 
and  stupid  barbarians  they  had  ever  seen.  The  crusaders, 
on  their  part,  were  struck  with  the  riches  and  elegance  of 
manners  which  they  observed  among  the  Mussulmans. 
These  first  impressions  were  succeeded  by  frequent  rela- 
tions between  the  Mussulmans  and  Christians.  These 
became  more  extensive  and  important  t  an  is  commonly 
believed.  Not  only  had  the  Christians  of  the  East  habitual 
relations  with  the  Mussulmans,  but  the  people  of  the  East 
and  the  West  became  acquainted  with,  visited,  and  mingled 
with  each  other.  It  is  but  lately  that  one  of  those  learned 
men  who  do  honour  to  France  in  the  eyes  of  Europe,  M. 
Abel  Remusat,  has  discovered  the  relations  which  sub- 
sisted between  the  Mongol  emperors  and  the  Christian 
kings.  Mongol  ambassadors  were  sent  to  the  kings  of  the 
Franks,  and  to  St.  Louis  among  others,  in  order  to  ^ er- 
18 


206  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

suade  them  to  enter  into  alliance,  and  to  resume  the  cru- 
sades for  the  common  interest  of  the  Mongols  and  the 
Christians  against  the  Turks.  And  not  only  were  diplo- 
matic and  official  relations  thus  established  between  the 
sovereio-ns,  but  there  was  much  and  various  intercourse 
between  the  nations  of  the  East  and  West.  I  shall  quote 
the  words  of  M.  Abel  Remusat  :* — 

"Many  men  of  religious  orders,  Italians,  French,  and  Flemings,  were 
charged  with  diplomatic  missions  to  the  court  of  the  Great  Khan.  Mon- 
gols of  distinction  came  to  Rome,  Barcelona,  Valentia,  Lyons,  Paris, 
London  and  Northampton  ;  and  a  Franciscan  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples 
was  Archbishop  ef  Pekin.  His  successor  was  a  professor  of  theology  in 
the  university  of  Pans.  But  how  many  other  people  followed  in  the  train 
of  those  personages  either  as  slaves,  or  attracted  by  the  desire  of  profit, 
or  led  by  curiosity  into  regions  hitherto  unknown  !  Chance  has  preserved 
the  names  of  some  of  these  ;  the  first  envoy  who  visited  the  king  of  Hun- 
gary on  the  part  of  the  Tartars  was  an  Knglishman,  who  had  been  ban- 
ished from  his  country  for  certain  crimes,  and  who,  after  having  wandered 
over  Asia,  at  last  entered  into  the  service  of  the  Mongols.  A  Flemish 
Cordelier,  in  the  heart  of  Tartary,  fell  in  with  a  woman  of  Melz  called 
Paquette,  who  had  been  earned  off  into  Hungary,  a  Parisian  goldsmith, 
and  a  young  man  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Rouen,  who  had  been  at  the 
taking  of  Belgrade.  In  the  same  country  he  fell  in  also  with  Russians, 
Hungarians,  and  Flemings.  A  singer,  called  Robert,  after  having  travel- 
led through  Eastern  Asia,  returned  to  end  his  days  in  the  cathedral  of 
Chartres.  A  Tartar  was  a  furnisher  of  helmets  in  the  armies  of  Philip 
the  Fair.  Jean  de  Plancarpin  fell  in,  near  Gayouk,  with  a  Russian  gen- 
tleman whom  he  calls  Temer,  and  who  acted  as  an  interpreter;  and  many 
merchants  of  Breslaw,  Poland,  a-id  Austria,  accompanied  him  in  his  jour- 
ney into  Tartary.  Others  returned  with  him  through  Russia  ;  they  were 
Genoese,  Pisans,  and  Venetians.  Two  Venetians,  merchants,  whom 
change  had  brought  to  Bokhara,  followed  a  Mongol  ambassador,  sent  by 
Houlagou  to  Khoubilai'.  They  remained  many  years  in  China  and  Tar- 
tary, returned  with  letters  from  the  Great  Khan  to  the  Pope,  and  after- 
wards went  back  to  the  Khan,  taking  with  them  the  son  of  one  of  their 
number,  the  celebrated  Marco  Polo,  and  once  more  left  the  court  of  Khou- 
bilai  to  return  to  Venice.  Travels  of  this  nature  were  not  less  frequent 
in  the  following  century.    Of  this  number  are  those  of  John  Mandeville, 


*  Memoires  sur  les  Relations  Politiques  des  Princes  Chretiens  avec  les  Empe- 
reurs  Mongols.    Deuxieme  Memoire,  p.  154,  157. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    BIODERN    EUROPE.  207 

an  English  physician ;  Oderic  de  Frioul,  Pegoletti,  Guilleaume  de  Boul- 
deselle,  and  several  others.     It  may  well  be  supposed,  that  those  travels 
of  which  the  memory  is  preserved,  form  but  a  small  part  of  those  which 
were  undertaken,  and  there  were  in  those  days  many  more  people  who 
were  able  to  perform  those  long  journeys  than  to  write  accounts  of  them. 
Many  of  those  adventurers  must  have  remained  and  died  in  the  countries 
ihey  went  to  visit.     Others  returned  home,  as  obscure  as  before,  but  hav- 
ing their  imagination  full  of  the  things  tViey  had  seen,  relating  them  to 
their  families,  with  much  exaggeration  no  doubt,  but  leaving  behind  them, 
among  many  ridiculous  fables,  useful  recollections  and  traditions  capable 
of  bearing  fruit.    Thus,  in  Germany,  Italy,  and  France,  in  the  monasteries, 
among  the  nobility,  and  even  down  to  the  lowest  classes  of  society,  there 
were  deposited  many  precious  seeds  destined  to  bud  at  a  somewhat  later 
period.     All  these  unknown  travellers,  carrying  the  arts  of  their  own  coun- 
try into  distant  regions,  brought  back  other  pieces  of  knowledge  not  less 
precious,  and,  without  being  aware  of  it,  made  exchanges  more  advanta- 
geous than  those  of  commerce.     By  these  means,  not  only  the  traffic  in 
the  silks,  porcelain,  and  other  commodities  of  Hindostan,  became  more 
extensive  and  practicable,  and  new  paths  were  opened  to  commercial  in- 
dustry and  enterprise  ;  but,  what  was  more  valuable  still,  foreign  ruanners, 
unknown  nations,  extraordinary   productions,   presented  themselves  in 
abundance  to  the  mind  of  the  Europeans,  which,  since  the  fall  of  the  Ro- 
man empire,  had  been  confined  within  too  narrow  a  circle.     Men  began 
to  attach  some  importance  to  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  populous,  and 
the  most  anciently  civilized,  of  the  four  quarters  of  the  world.     They 
began  to  study  the  arts,  the  religions,  the  languages,  of  the  nations  by 
whom  it  was  inhabited ;  and  there  was  even  an  intention  of  establishing 
a  professorship  of  the  Tartar  language  in  the  university  of  Paris.     The 
accounts  of  travellers,  strange  and  exaggerated,  indeed,  but  soon  discussed 
and  cleared  up,  diffused   more  correct  and  varied  notions  of  those  distant 
regions.     The  world  seemed  to  open,  as  it  were,  towards  the  East ;  geog- 
raphy made  an   immense  stride  ;  and   ardour  for  discovery  became  the 
new  form  assumed  by  European  spirit  of  adventure.    The  idea  of  another 
hemisphere,  when  our  own  came  to  be  better  known,  no  longer  seemed 
an  improbable  paradox  ;    and  it  was  when  in  search  of  the  Zipangri  of 
Marco  Polo  that  Christopher  Columbus  discovered  the  New  World." 

You  see,  then,  what  a  vast  and  unexplored  world  was 
laid  open  to  the  view  of  European  intelligence  by  the  con- 
sequences of  the  crusades.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the 
impulse  which  led  to  them  was  one  of  the  most  powerful 
causes  of  the  development  and  freedom  of  mind  which 
arose  out  of  that  great  event. 


208  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

There  is  another  circumstance  which  is  worthy  of  notice. 
Down  to  the  time  of  the  crusades,  the  court  of  Rome,  the 
centre  of  the  Church,  had  been  very  little  in  communica- 
tion with  the  laity,  unless  through  the  medium  of  ecclesi- 
astics ;  either  legates  sent  by  the  court  of  Rome,  or  the 
whole  body  of  the  bishops  and  clergy.  There  were 
always  some  laymen  in  direct  relation  with  Rome  ;  but 
upon  the  w^hole,  it  was  by  means  of  churchmen  that  Rome 
had  any  communication  with  the  people  of  different  coun- 
tries. During  the  crusades,  on  the  contrary,  Rome  be- 
came a  halting-place  for  a  great  portion  of  the  crusaders, 
either  in  going  of  returning.  A  multitude  of  laymen 
were  spectators  of  its  policy  and  its  manners,  and  were 
able  to  discover  the  share  which  personal  interest  had  in 
religious  disputes.  There  is  no  doubt  that  this  newly- 
acquired  knowledge  inspired  many  minds  with  a  boldness 
hitherto  unknown. 

When  we  consider  the  state  of  the  general  mind  at  the 
termination  of  the  crusades,  especially  in  regard  to  eccle- 
siastical matters,  we  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  a  sin- 
gular fact :  religious  notions  underwent  no  change,  and 
were  not  replaced  by  contrary  or  even  different  opinions. 
Thought,  notwithstanding,  had  become  more  free  ;  reli- 
gious creeds  were  not  the  only  subject  on  which  the 
human  mind  exercised  its  faculties ;  without  abandoning 
them,  it  began  occasionally  to  wander  from  them,  and  to 
take  other  directions.  Thus,  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  the  moral  cause  which  had  led  to  the  crusades, 
or  Avhich,  at  least,  had  been  their  most  energetic  principle, 
had  disappeared;  the  moral  state  of  Europe  had  under- 
gone an  essential  modification. 

The  social  state  of  society  had  undergone  an  analogous 
change.  Many  inquiries  have  been  made  as  to  the  influ- 
ence of  the  crusades  in  this  respect ;  it  has  been  showTi 
in  w^hat  manner  they  had  reduced  a  great  number  of  feu- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  209 

dal  proprietors  to  the  necessity  of  selling  their  fiefs  to 
the  kings,  or  to  sell  their  privileges  to  the  communities, 
in  order  to  raise  money  for  the  crusades. 

It  has  been  shown  that,  inconsequence  of  their  absence 
many  of  the  nobles  lost  a  great  portion  of  their  power. 
Without  entering  into  the  details  of  this  question,  we 
may  collect  into  a  few  general  facts  the  influence  of  the 
crusades  on  the  social  state  of  Europe. 

They  greatly  diminished  the  number  of  petty  fiefs,  petty 
domains,  and  petty  proprietors  j  they  concentrated  pro- 
perty and  power  in  a  smaller  number  of  hands.  It  is 
from  the  time  of  the  crusades  that  we  may  observe  the 
formation  and  growth  of  great  fiefs — the  existence  of 
feudal  power  on  a  large  scale. 

I  have  often  regretted  that  there  was  not  a  map  of 
France  divided  into  fiefs,  as  we  have  a  map  of  France 
divided  into  departments,  arrondissements^  cantons  and 
communes^  in  which  all  the  fiefs  were  marked,  with  their 
boundaries,  relations  with  each  other,  and  successive 
changes.  If  we  could  have  compared,  by  the  help  of  such 
maps,  the  state  of  France  before  and  after  the  crusades,  we 
should  have  seen  how  many  small  fiefs  had  disappeared, 
and  to  what  extent  the  greater  ones  had  increased.  This 
was  one  of  the  most  important  results  of  the  crusades. 

Even  in  those  cases  where  small  proprietors  preserved 
their  fiefs,  they  did  not  live  upon  them  in  such  an  insulated 
state  as  formerly.  The  possessors  of  great  fiefs  became 
so  many  centres  around  which  the  smaller  ones  were  gath- 
ered, and  near  which  they  came  to  live.  During  the  cru- 
sades, small  proprietors  found  it  necessary  to  place  them- 
selves in  the  train  of  some  rich  and  powerful  chief,  from 
whom  they  received  assistance  and  support.  They  lived 
with  him,  shared  his  fortune,  and  passed  through  the  same 
adventures  that  he  did.  When  the  crusaders  returned 
home,  this  social  spirit,  this  habit  of  living  in  intercourse 

18* 


210  GENERAL    HISTORY    OK 

with  superiors,  continued  to  subsist,  and  had  its  influence 
on  the  manners  oi  the  age.  As  we  see  that  the  great  fiefs 
were  increased  after  the  crusades,  so  we  see,  also,  that  the 
proprietors  of  these  fiefs  held,  within  their  castles,  a  much 
more  considerable  court  than  before,  and  were  surrounded 
by  a  greater  number  of  gentlemen,  who  preserved  their 
little  domains,  but  no  longer  kept  within  them. 

The  extension  of  the  great  fiefs,  and  the  creation  of  a 
number  of  central  points  in  society,  in  place  of  the  general 
dispersion  which  previously  existed,  were  the  two  princi- 
pal effects  of  the  crusades,  considered  with  respect  to 
their  influence  upon  feudalism. 

As  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  towns,  a  result  of  the  same 
nature  may  easily  be  perceived.  The  crusades  created 
great  civic  communities.  Petty  commerce  and  ^^etty 
industry  were  not  sufficient  to  give  rise  to  communities 
such  as  the  great  cities  of  Italy  and  Flanders.  It  was 
commerce  on  a  great  scale — maritime  commerce,  and, 
especially,  the  commerce  of  the  East  and  West,  which 
gave  them  birth  ;  now  it  was  the  crusades  which  gave  to 
maritime  commerce  the  greatest  impulse  it  had  yet 
received. 

On  the  whole,  when  we  survey  the  state  of  society  at 
the  end  of  the  crusades,  we  find  that  the  movement  tend- 
ing to  dissolution  and  dispersion,  the  movement  of  univer- 
sal localization  (if  I  may  be  allowed  such  an  expression), 
had  ceased,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  a  movement  in  the 
contrary  direction,  a  movement  of  centralization.  All 
things  tended  to  mutual  approximation  ;  small  things  were 
absorbed  in  great  ones,  or  gathered  round  them.  Such 
was  the  direction  then  taken  by  the  progress  of  society. 

You  now  understand  why,  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth 
and  in  the  fourteenth  century,  neither  nations  nor  sove- 
reigns wished  to  have  any  more  crusades.  They  neither 
needed  nor  desired  them  5  they  had  been  thrown  into  them 


CIVILIZATION'    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  211 

by  the  impulses  of  religious  spirit,  and  the  exclusive  domin- 
ion of  religious  ideas  ;  but  this  dominion  had  now  lost  its 
energy.  They  had  also  sought  in  the  crusades  anew  way 
of  life,  of  a  less  confined  and  more  varied  description  ; 
but  they  began  to  find  this  in  Europe  itself,  in  the  progress 
of  the  social  relations.  It  was  at  this  time  that  kings 
began  to  see  the  road  to  political  aggrandizement.  Why 
go  to  Asia  in  search  of  kingdoms,  when  there  were  king- 
doms to  conquer  at  their  very  doors  1  Philip  Augustus 
embarked  in  the  crusade  very  unwillingly;  and  what 
could  be  more  natural  1  His  desire  was  to  make  himself 
King  of  France.  It  was  the  same  thing  with  the  people. 
The  road  to  wealth  was  open  to  them  ;  and  they  gave  up 
adventures  for  industry.  Adventures  were  replaced,  for 
sovereigns,  by  political  projects  ;  for  the  people,  by  indus- 
try on  a  large  scale.  One  class  only  of  society  still  had  a 
taste  for  adventure  ;  that  portion  of  the  feudal  nobility, 
who,  not  being  in  a  condition  to  think  of  political  aggran- 
dizement, and  not  being  disposed  to  industry,  retained 
their  former  situation  and  manners.  This  class,  accord- 
ingly, continued  to  embark  in  crusades,  and  endeavoured 
to  renew  them. 

Such,  in  my  opinion,  are  the  real  effects  of  the  crusades  ; 
on  the  one  hand,  the  extension  of  ideas  and  the  emancipa- 
tion of  thought  ;  on  the  other,  a  general  enlargement  of 
the  social  sphere,  and  the  opening  of  a  wider  field  for  every 
sort  of  activity  :  they  produced,  at  the  same  time,  more 
individual  freedom  and  more  political  unity.  They  tended 
to  the  independence  of  man  and  the  centralization  of 
society.  Many  inquiries  have  been  made  respecting  the 
means  of  civilization  which  were  directly  imported  from 
the  East.  It  has  been  said  that  the  largest  part  of  the 
great  discoveries  which,  in  the  course  of  the  fourteenth 
and  fifteenth  centuries,  contributed  to  the  progress  of  Eu- 
ropean civilization — such  as  the  compass,  printing,  and 


212  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

gunpowder — were  known  in  the  East,  and  that  the  crusa- 
ders brought  them  into  Europe.  This  is  true  to  a  certain 
extent ;  though  some  of  these  assertions  may  be  disputed. 
But  what  cannot  be  disputed  is  this  influence,  this  general 
effect  of  the  crusades  upon  the  human  mind  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  state  of  society  on  the  other.  They  drew 
society  out  of  a  very  narrow  road,  to  throw  it  into  new 
and  infinitely  broader  paths ;  they  began  that  transforma- 
tion of  the  various  elements  of  European  society  into 
governments  and  nations,  which  is  the  characteristic  of 
modern  civilization.  The  same  period  Avitnessed  the 
development  of  one  of  those  institutions  which  has  most 
powerfully  contributed  to  this  great  result — monarchy ; 
the  history  of  which,  from  the  birth  of  the  modern  states 
of  Europe  to  the  thirteenth  century,  will  form  the  subject 
of  our  next  lecture, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUKOPE.  213 


LECTURE   IX. 

OF     MONARCHY. 

I  ENDEAVOURED,  at  our  last  meeting,  to  determine  the 
essential  and  distinctive  character  of  modern  society  as 
compared  with  the  primitive  state  of  society  in  Europe  j 
and  I  believed  I  had  found  it  in  this  fact,  that  all  the  ele- 
ments of  the  social  state,  at  first  numerous  and  various, 
were  reduced  to  two — the  government  on  one  hand,  and 
the  people  on  the  other.  Instead  of  finding,  in  the  capa- 
city of  ruling  forces  and  chief  agents  in  history,  the  clergy, 
kings,  citizens,  husbandmen,  and  serfs,  w^e  now^  find  in 
modern  Europe,  only  two  great  objects  w^hich  occupy  the 
historical  stage — the  government  and  the  nation. 

If  such  is  the  fact  to  which  European  civilization  has  led, 
such  also  is  the  result  to  which  our  researches  should  con- 
duct us.  We  must  see  the  birth,  the  growth,  the  progres- 
sive establishment  of  this  great  result.  We  have  entered 
upon  the  period  to  which  we  can  trace  its  origin:  it  was, 
as  you  have  seen,  between  the  twelfth  and  the  sixteenth 
centuries  that  those  slow  and  hidden  operations  took  place 
which  brought  society  into  this  new  form,  this  definite 
state.  We  have  also  considered  the  first  great  event  which, 
in  my  opinion,  evidently  had  a  powerful  effect  in  impel- 
ling Europe  into  this  road  ;  I  mean  the  crusades. 

About  the  same  period,  and  almost  at  the  very  time  when 
the  crusades  broke  out,  that  institution  began  to  increase, 
which  has  perhaps  chiefly  contributed  to  the  formation  of 
modern  society,  and  to  the  fusion  of  all  the  social  ele- 
ments into  two  forces,  the  government  and  the  people. 
This  institution  is  monarchy. 


SH  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

It  is  evident  that  monarchy  has  played  a  vast  part  in 
the  history  of  European  civilization.  Of  this  we  may 
convince  ourselves  by  a  single  glance.  We  see  the  devel- 
opment of  monarchy  proceed,  for  a  considerable  time,  at 
the  same  rate  as  that  of  society  itself:  they  had  a  com- 
mon progression.  And  not  only  had  they  a  common  pro- 
gression, but  with  every  step  that  society  made  towards 
its  definitive  and  modern  character,  monarchy  seemed  to 
increase  and  prosper ;  so  that,  when  the  work  was  con- 
summated— when  there  remained,  in  the  great  states  of 
Europe,  little  or  no  important  and  decisive  influence  but 
that  of  the  government  and  the  public — it  was  monarchy 
that  became  the  government. 

It  was  not  only  in  France,  where  the  fact  is  evident, 
that  this  happened,  but  in  most  of  the  countries  of  Eu- 
rope. A  little  sooner  or  later,  and  under  forms  somewhat 
different,  the  history  of  society  in  England,  Spain,  and 
Germany,  offers  us  the  same  result.  In  England,  for  ex- 
ample, it  was  under  the  Tudors  that  the  old  particular  and 
local  elements  of  English  society  were  dissolved  and 
mingled,  and  gave  way  to  the  system  of  public  authori- 
ties ;  this,  also,  was  the  period  when  monarchy  had  the 
greatest  influence.  It  was  the  same  thing  in  Germany, 
Spain,  and  all  the  great  European  states. 

If  we  leave  Europe,  and  cast  our  ej^es  over  the  rest  of 
the  world,  we  shall  be  struck  with  an  analogous  fact. 
Eveywhere  we  shall  find  monarchy  holding  a  great  place, 
and  appearing  as  the  most  general  and  permanent,  per- 
haps, of  all  institutions  ;  as  that  which  is  the  most  diffi- 
cult to  preclude  where  it  does  not  exist,  and,  where  it 
does  exist,  the  most  difficult  to  extirpate.  From  time 
immemorial  it  has  had  possession  of  Asia.  On  the  dis- 
covery of  America,  all  the  great  states  of  that  continent 
were  found,  with  different  combinations,  under  monarch- 
ical governments.     When  we  penetrate  into  the  interior 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  215   , 

of  Africa,  wherever  we  meet  with  nations  of  any  extent, 
this  is  the  government  which  prevails.  And  not  only  has 
monarchy  penetrated  everywhere,  but  it  has  accommo- 
dated itself  to  the  most  various  situations,  to  civilization 
and  barbarism :  to  the  most  peaceful  manners,  as  in  China, 
and  to  those  in  which  a  warlike  spirit  predominates.  It 
has  established  itself  not  only  in  the  midst  of  the  system 
of  castes^  in  countries  whose  social  economy  exhibits  the 
most  rigorous  distinction  of  ranks,  but  also  in  the  midst 
of  a  system  of  equality,  in  countries  where  society  is  most 
remote  from  every  kind  of  legal  and  permanent  classifi- 
cation. In  some  places  despotic  and  oppressive  j  in  others 
favourable  to  the  progress  of  civilization  and  even  of 
liberty;  it  is  like  a  head  that  may  be  placed  on  many  differ- 
ent bodies,  a  fruit  that  may  grow  from  many  different  buds. 
In  this  fact  w^e  might  discover  many  important  and  curi- 
ous consequences.  I  shall  take  only  two  3  the  first  is,  that 
such  a  result  cannot  possibly  be  the  offspring  of  mere 
chance,  of  force  or  usurpation  only  5  that  there  must  neces- 
sarily be,  between  the  nature  of  monarchy  considered  as 
an  institution,  and  the  nature  either  of  man  as  an  individ- 
ual or  of  human  society,  a  strong  and  intimate  analogy. 
Force,  no  doubt,  has  had  its  share,  both  in  the  origin  and  pro- 
gress of  the  institution  ;  but  as  often  as  you  meet  with  a 
result  like  this,  as  often  as  you  see  a  great  event  develop 
itself  or  recur  during  a  long  series  of  ages,  and  in  the 
midst  of  so  many  different  situations,  never  ascribe  it  to 
force.  Force  performs  a  great  and  a  daily  part  in  human 
affairs;  but  it  is  not  the  principle  which  governs  their 
movements :  there  is  always,  superior  to  force,  and  the 
part  which  it  performs,  a  moral  cause  which  governs  the 
general  course  of  events.  Force,  in  the  history  of  socie- 
ty, resembles  the  body  in  the  history  of  man.  The  body 
assuredly  holds  a  great  place  in  the  life  of  man,  but  is  not 
the  principle  of  life.     Life  circulates  in  it,  but  does  not 


%  216  GEx\ERAL   HISTORY    OF 


mate  from  it.  Such  is  also  the  case  in  human  society  ; 
Whatever  part  force  may  play  in  them,  it  does  not  govern 
them,  or  exercise  a  supreme  control  over  their  destinies  ; 
this  is  the  province  of  reason,  of  the  moral  influences 
which  are  hidden  under  the  accidents  of  force,  and  regu- 
late the  course  of  society.  We  may  unhesitatingly  de- 
clare that  it  was,- to  a  cause  of  this  nature,  and  not  to 
mere  force,  thaflfmonarchy  was  indebted  for  its  suc- 
cess.  >^  ^h 

A  second  fact  of  sfT^ost  ec^ual  importance  is  the  flexi- 
bility of  monarchy,  an^  i?s  faculty  of  modifying  itself  and 
adapting  itself  to  a  variety  of  different  circumstances. 
Observe  the  contrast  which  it  presents  :  its  form  reveals 
unity,  permanence,  simplicity.  It  does  not  exhibit  that 
variety  of  combinations  which  are  found  in  other  institu- 
tions ;  yet  it  accommodates  itself  to  the  most  dissimilar 
states  of  society.  It  becomes  evident  then  that  it  is  sus- 
ceptible of  great  diversity,  and  capable  of  being  attached 
to  many  difl^erent  elements  and  principles,  both  in  man  as 
an  iM-lividual  and  in  society. 

It  is  because  we  have  not  considered  monarchy  in  all 
its  extent;  because  we  have  not,  on  the  one  hand,  discov- 
ered the  principle  which  forms  its  essence  and  subsists 
under  every  circumstance  to  which  it  may  be  applied  ; 
and  because,  on  the  other  hand,  we  ha^  e  not  taken  into 
account  all  the  variations  to  which  it  accommodates  itself, 
and  all  the  principles  with  which  it  can  enter  into  alli- 
ance ; — it  is,  I  say,  because  w^e  have  not  considered  mon- 
archy in  this  twofold,  this  enlarged  point  of  view,  that  we 
have  not  thoroughly  understood  the  part  it  has  performed 
in  the  history  of  the  world,  and  have  often  been  mistaken 
as  to  its  nature  and  effects. 

This  is  the  task  which  I  should  wish  to  undertake  with 
you,  so  as  to  obtain  a  complete  and  precise  view  of  the 
effects   of  this  institution   in  modern  Europe  ;  whether 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  217 

they  have  flowed  from  its  intrinsic  principle,  or  from  the 
modifications  which  it  has  undergone. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  strength  of  monarchy,  that 
moral  power  which  is  its  true  principle,  does  not  reside 
in  the  personal  will  of  the  man  who  for  the  time  happens 
to  be  king  ;  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  people  in  accepting 
it  as  an  institution,  that  philosophers  in  maintaining  it  as 
a  system,  hai^e  net  meant  to  accept  the  empire  of  the 
will  of  an  individual — a  will  essentially  arbitrary,  capri- 
cious, and  ignorant. 

Monarchy  is  something  quite  different  from  the  will  of 
an  individual,  though  it  presents  itself  under  that  form. 
It  is  the  personification  of  legitimate  sovereignty — of  the 
collective  will  and  aggregate  wisdom  of  a  people — of  that 
will  which  is  essentially  reasonable,  enlightened,  just,  im- 
partial,— which  knows  naught  of  individual  wills,  though 
by  the  title  of  legitimate  monarchy,  earned  by  these  con- 
ditions, it  has  the  right  to  govern  them.  Such  is  the 
meaning  of  monarchy,  as  understood  by  the  people,  and 
such  is  the  motive  of  their  adhesion  to  it. 

Is  it  true  that  there  is  a  legitimate  sovereignty,  a  will 
which  has  a  right  to  govern  mankind  1  They  certainly 
believe  that  there  is  ;  for  they  endeavour,  have  always 
endeavoured,  and  cannot  avoid  endeavouring,  to  place 
themselves  under  its  empire.  Conceive,  I  shall  not  say  a 
people,  but  the  smallest  community  of  men ;  conceive  it 
in  subjection  to  a  sovereign  who  is  such  only  defacto^  to 
a  power  which  has  no  other  right  but  that  of  force,  which 
does  not  govern  by  the  title  of  reason  and  justice  ;  human 
nature  instantly  revolts  against  a  sovereignty  such  as  this. 
Human  nature,  therefore,  must  believe  in  legitimate  sove- 
reignty. It  is  this  sovereignty  alone,  the  sovereignty  de 
jure^  which  man  seeks  for,  and  which  alone  he  consents 
to  obey.  What  is  history  but  a  demonstration  of  this 
universal  fact  1     What  are  most  of  the  struggles  which 

19 


218  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

harass  the  lives  of  nations  but  so  many  determined  im- 
pulses towards  this  legitimate  sovereignty,  in  order  to 
place  themselves  under  its  empire  1  And  it  is  not  only 
the  people,  but  philosophers,  who  firmly  believe  in  its  ex- 
istence and  incessantly  seek  it.  What  are  all  the  systems 
of  political  philosophy  but  attempts  to  discern  the  legiti- 
mate sovereignty  1  What  is  the  object  of  their  investiga- 
tions but  to  discover  who  has  the  right  to  govern  society  % 
Take  theocracy,  monarchy,  aristocracy,  democracy  j  they 
all  boast  of  having  discovered  the  seat  of  legitimate  sove- 
reignty; they  all  promise  to  place  society  under  the  au- 
thority of  its  rightful  master.  This,  I  repeat, is  the  object 
of  all  the  labour  of  philosophers,  as  well  as  of  all  the 
efforts  of  nations. 

How  can  philosophers  and  Rations  do  otherwise  than 
believe  in  this  legitimate  sovereignty  1  How  can  they  do 
otherwise  than  strive  incessantly  to  discover  it  %  Let  us 
suppose  the  simplest  case  j  for  instance,  some  act  to  be 
performed,  either  affecting  society  in  general,  or  some 
portion  of  its  members,  or  even  a  single  individual ;  it  is 
evident  that  in  such  a  case  there  must  be  some  rule  of 
action,  some  legitimate  will  to  be  followed  and  applied. 
Whether  we  enter  into  the  most  minute  details  of  social 
life,  or  participate  in  its  most  momentous  concerns,  we 
shall  always  meet  with  a  truth  to  be  discovered,  a  law  of 
reason  to  be  applied  to  the  realities  of  human  affairs.  It 
is  this  law  which  constitutes  that  legitimate  sovereignty 
towards  which  both  philosophers  and  nations  have  never 
ceased,  and  can  never  cease,  to  aspire. 

But  how  far  can  legitimate  sovereignty  be  represented, 
generally  and  permanently,  by  an  earthly  power,  by  a  hu- 
man wiin  Is  there  any  thing  necessarily  false  and  dan- 
gerous in  such  an  assumption  1  What  are  we  to  think  in 
particular  of  the  personification  of  legitimate  sovereignty 
under  the  image  of  royalty  l     On  \vhat   conditions,  and 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  519 

within  what  limits,  is  this  personification  admissible  1 
These  are  great  questions,  which  it  is  not  my  business 
now  to  discuss,  but  which  I  cannot  avoid  noticing,  and  on 
which  I  shall  say  a  few  words  in  passing. 

I  affirm,  and  the  plainest  common  sense  must  admit, 
that  legitimate  sovereignty,  in  its  complete  and  permanent 
form,  cannot  belong  to  any  one ;  and  that  every  attribu- 
tion of  legitimate  sovereignty  to  any  human  power  what- 
ever is  radically  false  and  dangerous.  Thence  arises  the 
necessity  of  the  limitation  of  every  power,  whatever  may 
be  its  name  or  form  ;  thence  arises  the  radical  illegitima- 
cy of  every  sort  of  absolute  power,  whatever  may  be  its 
origin,  whether  conquest,  inheritance,  or  election.  We 
may  differ  as  to  the  best  means  of  finding  the  legitimate 
sovereignty ;  they  vary  according  to  the  diversities  of 
place  and  time ;  but  there  is  no  place  or  time  at  which 
any  power  can  legitimately  be  the  independent  possessor 
of  this  sovereignty. 

This  principle  being  laid  down,  it  is  equally  certain 
that  monarchy,  under  whatever  system  we  consider  it, 
presents  itself  as  the  personification  of  the  legitimate 
sovereignty.  Listen  to  the  supporters  of  theocracy; 
they  will  tell  you  that  kings  are  the  image  of  God  upon 
earth,  which  means  nothing  more  than  that  they  are  the 
personification  of  supreme  justice,  truth,  and  goodness. 
Turn  to  the  jurists  ;  they  will  tell  you  that  the  king  is  the 
living  law  ,*  which  means,  again,  that  the  king  is  the  per- 
sonification of  the  legitimate  sovereignty,  of  that  law  of 
justice  which  is  entitled  to  govern  society.  Interrogate 
monarchy  itself  in  its  pure  and  unmixed  form  ;  it  will  tell 
you  that  it  is  the  personification  of  the  state,  of  the  com- 
monwealth. In  whatever  combination,  in  whatever  situa- 
tion, monarchy  is  considered,  you  Avill  find  that  it  is 
always  held  out  as  representing  this  legitimate  sovereign- 
ty, this  power,  which  alone  is  capable  of  lawfully  govern- 
ing society. 


220  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

We  need  not  be  surprised  at  this.  What  are  the  char- 
acteristics of  this  legitimate  sovereignty,  and  which  are 
derived  from  its  very  nature  \  In  the  first  place,  it  is  sin- 
gle;  since  there  is  but  one  truth,  one  justice,  so  there 
can  be  but  one  legitimate  sovereignty.  It  is,  moreover, 
permanent,  and  always  the  same,  for  truth  is  unchangea- 
ble. It  stands  on  a  high  vantage-ground,  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  vicissitudes  and  chances  of  this  world,  with 
w^hich  it  is  only  connected  in  the  character,  as  it  were,  of 
a  spectator  and  a  judge.  AVell,  then,  these  being  the  ra- 
tional and  natural  characteristics  of  the  legitimate  sove- 
reignty, it  is  monarchy  which  exhibits  them  under  the 
most  palpable  form,  and  seems  to  be  their  most  faithful 
image.  Consult  the  work  in  which  M.  Benjamin  Constant 
has  so  ingeniously  represented  monarchy,  as  a  neutral 
and  moderating  power,  raised  far  above  the  struggles  and 
casualties  of  society,  and  never  interfering  but  in  great 
and  critical  conjunctures.  Is  not  this,  so  to  speak,  the 
attitude  of  the  legitimate  sovereignty,  in  the  government 
of  human  affairs  1  There  must  be  something  in  this  idea 
peculiarly  calculated  to  strike  the  mind,  for  it  has  passed, 
with  singular  rapidity,  from  books  into  the  actual  conduct 
of  affairs.  A  sovereign  has  made  it,  in  the  constitution 
of  Brazil,  the  very  basis  of  his  throne.  In  that  constitu- 
tion, monarchy  is  represented  as  a  moderating  powder, 
elevated  above  the  active  powers  of  the  state,  like  their 
spectator  and  their  judge. 

Under  whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  monarchy, 
when  you  compare  it  with  the  legitimate  sovereignty,  you 
will  find  a  great  outward  resemblance  between  them — a 
resemblance  with  which  the  human  mind  must  necessarily 
have  been  struck.  Whenever  the  reflection  or  the  imaofi- 
nation  of  men  has  especially  turned  towards  the  contem- 
plation or  study  of  legitimate  sovereignty,  and  of  its  es- 
sential qualities,  it  has  inclined  towards  monarchy.  Thus 
in  the  times  when  religious  ideas  preponderated,  the  habit- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  221 

ual  contemplation  of  the  nature  of  God  impelled  mankind 
towards  the  monarchical  system.  In  the  same  manner, 
when  the  influence  of  jurists  prevailed  in  society,  the 
habit  of  studying,  under  the  name  of  law,  the  nature  of 
the  legitimate  sovereignty,  was  favourable  to  the  dogma 
of  its  personification  in  the  institution  of  monarchy.  The 
attentive  application  of  the  human  mind  to  the  contem- 
plation of  the  nature  and  qualities  of  the  legitimate  sove- 
reignty, when  there  were  no  other  causes  to  destroy  its 
effect,  has  always  given  strength  and  consideration  to 
monarchy,  as  being  its  image. 

There  are,  too,  certain  junctures,  which  are  particularly 
favourable  to  this  personification  ;  such,  for  example,  as 
when  individual  forces  display  themselves  in  the  world 
with  all  their  uncertainties  ;  all  their  waywardness  ;  when 
selfishness  predominates  in  individuals,  either  through  ig- 
norance and  brutality,  or  through  corruption.  At  such 
times,  society,  distracted  by  the  conflict  of  individual  wills, 
and  unable  to  attain,  by  their  free  concurrence,  to  a  general 
will,  which  might  hold  them  in  subjection,  feels  an  ardent 
desire  for  a  sovereign  power,  to  which  all  individuals  must 
submit ;  and,  as  soon  as  any  institution  presents  itself 
^vhich  bears  any  of  the  characteristics  of  legitimate  sove- 
reignty, society  rallies  round  it  with  eagerness  j  as  people, 
under  proscription,  take  refuge  in  the  sanctuary  of  ia  church. 
This  is  what  has  taken  place  in  the  wild  and  disorderly 
youth  of  nations,  such  as  those  we  have  passed  through. 
Monarchy  is  wonderfully  suited  to  those  times  of  strong 
and  fruitful  anarchy,  if  I  may  so  speak,  in  w^hich  society 
is  striving  to  form  and  regulate  itself,  but  is  unable  to  do 
so  by  the  free  concurrence  of  individual  wills.  There  are* 
other  times  when  monarchy,  though  from  a  contrary  cause, 
has  the  same  merit.  Why  did  the  Roman  world,  so  near 
dissolution  at  the  end  of  the  republic,  still  subsist  for  more 
than  fifteen  centuries,  under  the  name  of  an  empire,  which, 

19* 


222.  GE^'ERAL    HISTORY    OF 

after  all,  was  nothing  but  a  lingering  deca\%  a  protracted 
death-struggle  \  Monarchy,  alone,  could  produce  such  an 
effect  J  monarchy,  alone,  could  maintain  a  state  of  society 
which  the  spirit  of  selfishness  incessantly  tended  to  de- 
stroy. The  imperial  power  contended  for  fifteen  cen- 
turies against  the  ruin  of  the  Roman  world. 

It  thus  appears  that  there  are  times  when  monarchy, 
alone,  can  retard  the  dissolution,  and  times  M'hen  it, 
alone,  can  accelerate  the  formation  of  society.  And  it 
is,  in  both  cases,  because  it  represents,  more  clearly  than 
any  other  form  of  government  can  do,  the  legitimate 
sovereignty,  that  it  exercises  this  power  over  the  course 
of  events. 

Under  whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  this  institu- 
tion, and  at  whatever  period  you  take  it,  you  will  find, 
therefore,  that  its  essential  character,  its  moral  principle, 
its  true  meaning,  the  cause  of  its  strength,  is,  its  being 
the  image,  the  personification,  the  presumed  interpreter, 
of  that  single,  superior,  and  essentially  legitimate  will, 
which  alone  has  a  right  to  govern  society. 

Let  us  now  consider  monarchy  under  the  second  point 
of  view,  that  is  to  say,  in  its  flexibility,  the  variety  of 
parts  it  has  performed,  and  of  effects  it  has  produced. 
Let  us  endeavour  to  account  for  this  character,  and  ascer- 
tain its  causes. 

Here  we  have  an  advantage  ;  we  can  at  once  return  to 
history,  and  to  the  history  of  our  OAvn  country.  By  a  con- 
currence of  singular  circumstances,  monarchy  in  modern 
Europe  has  but  one  very  character  which  it  has  ever  exhi- 
bited in  the  history  of  the  world.  European  monarchy  has 
^been,  in  some  sort,  the  result  of  all  the  possible  kinds  of 
monarchy.  In  running  over  its  history,  from  the  fifth  to 
the  twelfth  century,  you  will  see  the  variety  of  aspects 
ander  which  it  appears,  and  the  extent  to  which  we  every- 
wnere  find  that   variety,   complication,   and  contention. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  223 

which  characterize  the  whole  course  of  European  civili- 
zation. 

In  the  fifth  century,  at  the  time  of  the  great  invasion  of 
the  Germans,  two  monarchies  were  in  existence — the  bar- 
barian monarchy  of  Clovis,.  and  the  imperial  monarchy  of 
Constantine.  They  were  very  different  from  each  other 
in  principles  and  effects. 

The  barbarian  monarchy  was  essentially  elective.  The 
German  kings  were  elected,  though  their  election  did  not 
take  place  in  the  form  to  which  we  are  accustomed  to  at- 
tach that  idea.  They  were  military  chiefs,  whose  power 
was  freely  accepted  by  a  great  number  of  their  compan- 
ions, by  whom  they  were  obeyed  as  being  the  bravest  and 
most  competent  to  rule.  Election  was  the  true  source  of 
this  barbarian  monarchy,  its  primitive  and  essential  char- 
acter. 

It  is  true  that  this  character,  in  the  fifth  century,  was 
already  soqnewhat  modified,  and  that  difi^erent  elements 
were  introduced  into  monarchy.  Different  tribes  had  pos- 
sessed their  chiefs  for  a  certain  space  of  time  ;  families 
had  arisen,^  more  considerable  and  Vv^ealthier  than  the  rest. 
This  produced  the  beginning  of  hereditary  succession  ; 
the  chief  being  almost  always  chosen  from  these  families. 
This  was  the  first  principle  of  a  different  nature  which 
became  associated  with  the  leading  principle  of  election. 

Another  element  had  already  entered  into  the  institution 
of  barbarian  monarchy — I  mean  the  element  of  religion. 
We  find  among  some  of  the  barbarian  tribes — the  Goths, 
forexample — theconviction  that  the  families  of  their  kings 
were  descended  from  the  families  of  their  gods  or  of  their 
deified  heroes,  such  as  Odin.  This,  too,  was  the  case 
with  Homer's  monarchs,  who  were  the  issue  of  gods 
or  demi-gods,  and,  by  this  title,  objects  of  religious 
veneration,  notwithstanding  the  limited  extent  of  their 
power. 


224  GENERAL   HISTORY    aF 

Such  was  the  barbarian  monarchy  of  the  fifth  century, 
whose  primitive  principle  still  predominated,  though  it 
had  itself  grown  diversified  and  wavering. 

I  now  take  the  monarchy  of  the  Roman  empire,  the  prin- 
ciple of  which  was  totally  difl^erent.  It  was  the  personifica- 
tion of  the  state,  the  heir  of  the  sovereignty  and  majesty 
of  the  Roman  people.  Consider  the  monarchy  of  Augus- 
tus or  Tiberius  :  the  emperor  was'the  representative  of  the 
senate ;  the  assemblies  of  the  people,  the  whole  republic. 

Was  not  this  evident  from  the  modest  language  of  the 
first  emperors — of  such  of  them,  at  least,  as  were  men  of 
sense  and  understood  their  situation  1  They  felt  that  they 
stood  in  the  presence  of  the  people,  who  themselves  had 
lately  possessed  the  sovereign  power,  which  they  had  abdi- 
cated in  their  favour ;  and  addressed  the  people  as  their 
representatives  and  ministers.  But  in  reality  they  exer- 
cised all  the  power  of  the  people,  and  that  too,  in  its  most 
exascgerated  and  fearful  form.  Such  a  transformation  it  is 
easy  for  us  to  comprehend ;  we  have  witnessed  it  our- 
selves ;  we  have  seen  the  sovereignty  transferred  from  the 
people  to  the  person  of  a  single  individual ;  this  was  the 
history  of  Napoleon.  He  also  was  a  personification  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  people;  and  constantly  expressed  him- 
self to  that  effect.  "  Who  has  been  elected,"  he  said, 
*'  like  me,  by  eighteen  millions  of  men  1  who  is,  like  me, 
the  representative  of  the  people  1"  and  when,  upon  his 
coins,  we  read  on  one  side  Repuhlique  Francaise,  and  on 
the  other  Jfapoleon  Empereur^  what  is  this  but  an  example 
of  the  fact  which  I  am  describing,  of  the  people  having 
become  the  monarch  1 

Such  was  the  fundamental  character  of  the  imperial  mo- 
narchy ;  it  preserved  this  character  during  the  three  first 
centuries  of  the  empire  \  and  it  was,  indeed,  only  under 
Diocletian  that  it  assumed  tts  complete  and  definitive  form. 
It  was  then,  however,  on  the  eve  of  undergoing  a  great 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  225 

change  ;  a  new  kind  of  monarchy  was  about  to  appear. 
Djiring  three  centuries  Christianity  had  been  endeavouring 
to  introduce  into  the  empire  the  element  of  religion  It 
was  under  Constantine  that  Christianity  succeeded,  not  in 
making  religion  the  prevailing  element,  but  in  giving  it  a 
prominent  part  to  perform.  Monarchy  here  presents  itself 
under  a  different  aspect  ;  it  is  not  of  earthly  origin  :  the 
prince  is  not  the  representative  of  the  sovereignty  of  the 
public  ;  he  is  the  image,  the  representative,  the  delegate  of 
God.  Power  descends  to  him  from  on  high,  while,  in  the 
imperial  monarchy,  power  had  ascended  from  below. 
These  were  totally  different  situations,  with  totally  differ- 
ent results.  The  rights  of  freedom  and  political  securities 
are  difficult  to  combine  with  the  principle  of  religious 
monarchy ;  but  the  principle  itself  is  high,  moral,  and  salu- 
tary. I  shall  show  you  the  idea  which  was  formed  of  the 
prince,  in  the  seventh  century,  under  the  system  of  reli- 
gious monarchy.  I  take  it  from  the  canons  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Toledo. 

"  The  king  is  called  rex  because  he  governs  with  jus- 
tice. If  he  acts  justly  (rectt)  he  has  a  legitimate  title  to 
the  name  of  king  ;  if  he  acts  unjustly,  he  loses  all  claim 
to  it.  Our  fathers,  therefore,  said  with  reason,  rex  ejus 
eris  si  recta  facis  ;  si  autem  non  facis,  non  eris.  The  two 
principal  virtues  of  a  king  are  justice  and  truth,  (the  sci- 
ence of  truth,  reason.) 

"The  depositary  of  the  royal  power,  no  less  than  the 
whole  body  of  the  people,  is  bound  to  respect  the  laws. 
While  we  obey  the  will  of  heaven,  we  make  for  ourselves, 
as  well  as  our  subjects,  wise  laws,  obedience  to  which  is 
obligatory  on  ourselves  and  our  successors,  as  well  as 
upon  all  the  population  of  our  kingdom.     *     *     *     * 

"  God,  the  creator  of  all  things,  in  constructing  the  hu- 
man body,  has  raised  the  head  aloft,  and  has  willed  that 
from  it  should  proceed  the  nerves  of  all  the  members,  and 
he  has  placed  in  the  head  the  torches  of  the  eyes,  in  order 


226  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

to  throw  light  upon  every  dangerous  object.  In  like  man- 
ner he  has  established  the  power  of  intelligence,  giving  it 
the  charge  of  governing  all  the  members,  and  of  prudently- 
regulating  their  action.     ********* 

"It  is  necessary  then  to  regulate,  first  of  all,  those 
things  which  relate  to  princes,  to  provide  for  their  safety, 
and  protect  their  life,  and  then  those  things  which  concern 
the  people,  in  such  a  manner,  that  in  properly  securing  the 
safety  of  kings,  that  of  the  people  may  be,  at  the  same 
time,  and  so  much  the  more  effectually,  secured."* 

But,  in  the  system  of  religious  monarchy,  there  is  al- 
most always  another  element  introduced  besides  mon- 
archy itself^  A  new  power  takes  its  place  by  its  side;  a 
power  nearer  to  God,  the  source  whence  monarchy  ema- 
nates, than  monarchy  itself.  This  is  the  clergy,  the  eccle- 
siastical power  which  interposes  between  God  and  kings, 
and  between  kings  and  people,  in  such  sort,  that  mon- 
archy, though  the  image  of  the  Divinity,  runs  the  hazard 
of  falling  to  the  rank  of  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  the 
human  interpreters  of  the  Divine  will.  This  is  a  new 
cause  of  diversity  in  the  destinies  and  effects  of  the  insti- 
tution. 

The  different  kinds  of  monarchy,  then,  which,  in  the 
fifth  century,  made  their  appearance  on  the  ruins  of  the 
Roman  empire,  were,  the  barbarian  monarchy,  the  impe- 
rial monarchy,  and  religious  monarchy  in  its  infancy. 
Their  fortunes  were  as  different  as  their  principles. 

In  France,  under  the  first  race,  barbarian  monarchy 
prevailed.  There  were,  indeed,  some  attempts  on  the  part 
of  the  clergy  to  impress  upon  it  the  imperial  or  religious 
character  ;  but  the  system  of  election,  in  the  royal  family, 
with  some  mixture  of  inheritance  and  of  religious  no- 
tions, remained  predominant. 

In  Italy,  among  the  Ostrogoths,  the  imperial  monarchy 

*.  Fomm  judicum,  tit.  i,  1.  2 ;  tit.  i.  1.  g,  1.  i. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  S'27 

overcame  the  barbarous  customs.  Theodoric  considered 
himself  as  successor  of  the  emperors.  It  is  sufficient  to 
read  Cassiodorus  to  perceive  that  this  Avas  the  character 
of  his  government. 

In  Spain,  monarchy  appeared  more  religious  than  else- 
where. As  the  councils  of  Toledo,  though  I  shall  not 
call  them  absolute,  were  the  influencing  power,  the  reli- 
gious character  predominated,  if  not  in  the  government, 
properly  so  called,  of  the  Visigothic  kings,  at  least  in  the 
laws  which  the  clergy  suggested  to  them,  and  the  language 
they  made  them  speak. 

In  England,  among  the  Saxons,  manners  remained  almost 
wholly  barbarous.  The  kingdoms  of  the  heptarchy  were 
little  else  than  the  territories  of  different  bands,  every  one 
having  its  chief.  Military  election  appears  more  evi- 
dently among  them  than  anywhere  else.  The  Anglo- 
Saxon  monarchy  is  the  most  faithful  type  of  the  barbarian 
monarchy. 

Thus,  from  the  fifth  to  the  seventh  century,  at  the  same 
time  that  all  these  three  sorts  of  monarchy  manifested 
themselves  in  general  facts,  one  or  other  of  them  pre- 
vailed, according  to  circumstances,  in  the  diflerent  states 
of  Europe. 

Such  was  the  prevailing  confusion  at  this  period,  that 
nothing  of  a  general  or  permanent  nature  could  be  estab- 
lished ;  and,  from  vicissitude  to  vicissitude,  we  arrive  at 
the  eighth  century  without  finding  that  monarchy  has  any- 
where assumed  a  definitive  character. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century,  and  with  the 
triumph  of  the  second  race  of  the  Frank  kings,  events 
assume  a  more  general  character,  and  become  clearer  ;  as 
they  were  transacted  on  a  larger  scale,  they  can  be  better 
understood  and  have  more  evident  results.  The  difl^erent 
kinds  of  monarchy  were  shortly  destined  to  succeed  and 
combine  with  one  another  in  a  very  striking  manner. 

At  the  time  when  the  Carlovingians  replaced  the  Merc- 


228  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

vino-ians,  we  perceive  a  return  of  the  barbarian  monarchy. 
Election  re-appeared  ;  Pepin  got  himself  elected  at  Sois- 
sons.  When  the  first  Carlovingians  gave  kingdoms  to 
their  sons,  they  took  care  that  they  should  be  acknow- 
ledo-ed  by  the  chief  men  of  the  states  assigned  to  them. 
When  they  divided  a  kingdom,  they  desired  that  the  par- 
tition should  be  sanctioned  in  the  national  assemblies.  In 
short,  the  elective  principle,  under  the  form  of  popular  ac- 
ceptance, again  assumed  a  certain  reality.  You  remem- 
ber that  this  change  of  dynasty  was  like  a  new  inroad  of 
the  Germans  into  the  west  of  Europe,  and  brought  back 
some  shadow  of  their  ancient  institutions  and  manners. 

At  the  same  time,  we  see  the  religious  principle  more 
clearly  introducing  itself  into  monarchy,  and  performing 
a  part  of  greater  importance.  Pepin  was  acknowledged 
and  consecrated  by  the  pope.  He  felt  that  he  stood  in 
need  of  the  sanction  of  religion ;  it  was  already  become 
a  great  power,  and  he  sought  its  assistance.  Charle- 
magne adopted  the  same  policy;  and  religious  monarchy 
thus  developed  itself.  Still,  however,  under  Charlemagne, 
relio"ion  was  not  the  prevailing  character  of  his  govern- 
ment ;  the  imperial  system  of  monarchy  was  that  which 
he  wished  to  revive.  Although  he  allied  himself  closely 
with  the  clergy,  he  made  use  of  them,  and  was  not  their 
instrument.  The  idea  of  a  great  state,  of  a  great  politi- 
cal combination, — the  resurrection,  in  short,  of  the  Ro- 
man empire,  was  the  favourite  day-dream  of  Charle- 
magne. 

He  died,  and  was  succeeded  by  Louis  le  Debonnaire. 
Every  body  knows  the  character  to  which  the  royal  power 
was  then,  for  a  short  time,  reduced.  The  king  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  clergy,  who  censured,  deposed,  re- 
instated, and  governed  him  ;  a  monarchy  subordinate  to 
religious  authority  seemed  on  the  point  of  being  estab- 
lished. 

Thus,   from  the  middle  of  the  eighth  to  the  middle  of 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  229 

the  ninth  century,  the  diversity  of  the  three  kinds  of 
monarchy  became  manifested  by  events  important,  closely 
connected,  and  clear. 

After  the  death  of  Louis  le  Debonnaire,  during  the 
state  of  disorder  into  which  Europe  fell,  the  three  kinds 
of  monarchy  almost  equally  disappeared:  every  thing 
became  confounded.  At  the  end  of  a  certain  time,  when 
the  feudal  system  had  prevailed,  a  fourth  kind  of  monar- 
chy presented  itself,  differing  from  all  those  which  had 
been  hitherto  observed  :  this  was  feudal  monarchy.  It  is 
confused  in  its  nature,  and  cannot  easily  be  defined.  It 
has  been  said  that  the  king,  in  the  feudal  system  of  govern- 
ment, was  the  suzerain  over  suzeraines^  the  lord  over 
lords ;  that  he  was  connected  by  firm  links,  from  degree 
to  degree,  with  the  whole  frame  of  society  j  and  that,  in 
calling  around  him  his  own  vassals,  then  the  vassals  of  his 
vassals,  and  so  on  in  gradation,  he  exercised  his  authority 
over  the  whole  mass  of  the  people,  and  showed  himself  to 
be  really  a  king.  I  do  not  deny  that  this  is  the  theory 
of  feudal  monarchy  :  but  it  is  a  mere  theory,  which  has 
never  governed  facts.  This  pretended  influence  of  the 
king  by  means  of  a  hierarchical  organization,  these  links 
which  are  supposed  to  have  united  monarchy  to  the  whole 
body  of  feudal  society,  are  the  dreams  of  speculative  poli- 
ticians. In  fact  the  greatest  part  of  the  feudal  chieftains 
at  that  period  were  completely  independent  of  the  mon- 
archy ;  many  of  them  hardly  knew  it  even  by  name,  and 
had  few  or  no  relations  with  it :  every  kind  of  sove- 
reignty was  local  and  independent.  The  name  of  king, 
borne  by  one  of  these  feudal  chiefs,  does  not  so  much  ex- 
press a  fact  as  a  remembrance. 

Such  is  the  state  in  which  monarchy  presents  itself  in 
the  course  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries.  In  the 
twelfth,  at  the  accession  of  Louis  le  Gros,  things  began  to 
change    their   aspect.     The   king  was   more   frequently 

20 


230  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

spoken  of;  his  influence  penetrated  into  places  which  it 
had  not  previously  reached  ;  he  assumed  a  more  active 
part  in  society.  If  we  inquire  into  this  title,  we  recognise 
none  of  those  titles  of  which  monarchy  had  previously 
been  accustomed  to  avail  itself.  It  was  not  by  inheritance 
from  the  emperors,  or  by  the  title  of  imperial  monarchy, 
that  this  institution  aggrandized  itself,  and  assumed  more 
consistency.  Neither  was  it  in  virtue  of  election,  or  as 
being  an  emanation  from  divine  power  :  every  appearance 
of  election  had  vanished  j  the  principle  of  inheritance 
definitively  prevailed  ;  and  notwithstanding  the  sanction 
given  by  religion  to  the  accession  of  kings,  the  minds  of 
men  did  not  appear  to  be  at  all  occupied  with  the  religious 
character  of  the  monarchy  of  Louis  le  Gros.  A  new 
element,  a  character  hitherto  unknow^n,  was  introduced 
into  monarchy  ;  a  new  species  of  monarchy  began  to 
exist. 

Society,  I  need  hardly  repeat,  was  at  this  period  in  very 
great  disorder,  and  subject  to  constant  scenes  of  violence. 
Society,  in  itself,  was  destitute  of  means  to  struggle 
against  this  situation,  and  to  recover  some  degree  of  order 
and  unity.  The  feudal  institutions, — those  parliaments  of 
barons,  those  seignorial  courts, — all  those  forms  under 
which,  in  modern  times,  feudalism  has  been  represented 
as  a  systematic  and  orderly  state  of  government, — all 
these  things  were  unreal  and  powerless  ;  there  was  nothing 
in  them  which  could  afford  the  means  of  establishing  any 
degree  of  order  or  justice  ;  so  that,  in  the  midst  of  social 
anarchy,  no  one  knew  to  whom  recourse  could  be  had,  in 
order  to  redress  a  great  injustice,  remedy  a  great  evil,  to 
constitute  something  like  a  state.  The  name  of  king 
remained,  and  was  borne  by  some  chief  whose  authority 
was  acknowledged  by  a  few  others.  The  different  titles, 
however,  under  which  the  royal  power  had  been  formerly 
exercised,  though  they  had  no  great  influence,  yet  were  far 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  231 

from  being  forgotten,  and  were  recalled  on  various  occa- 
sions. It  happened  that,  in  order  to  re-establish  some 
degree  of  order  in  a  place  near  the  king's  residence,  or 
to  terminate  some  difference  which  had  lasted  a  longtime, 
recourse  was  had  to  him ;  he  was  called  upon  to  intervene 
in  affairs  which  were  not  directly  his  own  j  and  he  inter- 
vened as  a  protector  of  public  order,  as  arbitrator,  as 
redresser  of  wrongs.  The  moral  authority  which  con- 
tinued to  be  attached  to  his  name  gained  for  him,  by  little 
and  little,  this  great  accession  of  power. 

Such  was  the  character  which  monarchy  began  to  as- 
sume under  Louis  le  Gros,  and  under  the  administration 
of  Suger.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  seems  to  have  entered 
the  minds  of  men  the  idea,  though  very  incomplete,  con- 
fused, and  feeble,  of  a  public  power,  unconnected  with 
the  local  powers  which  had  possession  of  society,  called 
upon'to  render  justice  to  those  who  could  not  obtain  it 
by  ordinary  means,  and  capable  of  producing,  or  at  least, 
commanding,  order;  — the  idea  of  a  great  magistracy, 
whose  essential  character  was  to  maintain  or  re-establish 
the  peace  of  society,  to  protect  the  weak,  and  to  decide 
differences  which  could  not  be  otherwise  settled.  Such 
was  the  entirely  new  character,  in  which,  reckoning  from 
the  twelfth  century,  monarchy  appeared  in  Europe,  and 
especially  in  France.  It  was  neither  as  barbarian  mon- 
archy, as  religious  monarchy,  nor  as  imperial  monarchy, 
that  the  royal  power  was  exercised ;  this  kind  of  monar- 
chy possessed  only  a  limited,  incomplete,  and  fortuitous 
power  ; — a  power  which  I  cannot  more  precisely  describe 
than  by  saying  that  it  was,  in  some  sort,  that  of  the  chief 
conservator  of  the  public  peace. 

This  is  the  true  origin  of  modern  monarchy ;  this  is  its 
vital  principle,  if  I  may  so  speak  ;  it  is  this  which  has 
been  developed  in  the  course  of  its  career,  and,  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  saying,  has  ensured  its  success.     At  different 


232  GE^'ERAL   HISTORY    OF 

periods  of  history  we  observe  the  re-appearance  of  the  va- 
rious characters  of  monarchy  ;  we  see  the  different  kinds 
of  monarchy  which  I  have  described,  endeavouring,  by 
turns,  to  recover  the  preponderance.  Thus,  the  clergy 
have  always  preached  religious  monarchy ;  the  civilians 
have  laboured  to  revive  the  principle  of  imperial  monar- 
chy ;  the  nobility  would  sometimes  have  wished  to  renew 
elective  monarchy,  or  maintain  feudal  monarchy.  And 
not  only  have  the  clergy,  the  civilians,  and  the  nobility, 
attempted  to  give  such  or  such  a  character  a  predomi- 
nance in  the  monarchy,  but  monarchy  itself  has  made 
them  all  contribute  towards  the  aggrandizement  of  its 
own  power.  Kings  have  represented  themselves  some- 
times as  the  delegates  of  God,  sometimes  as  the  heirs  of 
the  emperors,  or  as  the  first  noblemen  of  the  land,  accord- 
ing to  the  occasion  or  public  Avish  of  the  moment  j  they 
have  illegitimately  availed  themselves  of  these  various 
titles,  but  none  of  them  has  been  the  real  title  of  modern 
monarchy,  or  the  source  of  its  preponderating  influence. 
It  is,  I  repeat,  as  depositary  and  protector  of  public  order, 
of  general  justice,  and  of  the  common  interest, — it  is 
under  the  aspect  of  a  chief  magistracy,  the  centre  and 
bond  of  society,  that  modern  monarchy  has  presented  it- 
self to  the  people,  and,  in  obtaining  their  adhesion,  has 
made  their  strength  its  own. 

You  will  see,  as  we  proceed,  this  characteristic  of  the 
monarchy  of  modern  Europe,  which  began,  I  repeat,  in  the 
twelfth  century,  and  in  the  reign  of  Louis  le  Gros,  confirm 
and  develop  itself,  and  become  at  length,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
the  political  physiognomy  of  the  institution.  It  is  by  this 
that  monarchy  has  contributed  to  the  great  result  which 
now  characterizes  European  society,  the  reduction  of  all 
the  social  elements  to  two — the  government  and  the  nation. 

Thus  it  appears,  that,  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  cru- 
sades Europe  entered  upon  the  path  which  was  to  conduct 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  233 

her  to  her  present  state  ;  you  have  just  seen  monarchy 
assume  the  important  part  which  it  was  destined  to  per- 
form in  this  great  transformation.  We  shall  consider,  at 
our  next  meeting,  the  diiferent  attempts  at  political  or- 
ganization, made  from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  century, 
in  order  to  maintain,  by  regulating  it,  the  order  of  things 
that  was  about  to  perish.  We  shall  consider  the  efforts 
of  feudalism,  of  the  Church,  and  even  of  the  free  cities, 
to  constitute  society  according  to  its  ancient  principles, 
and  under  its  primitive  forms,  and  thus  to  defend  them- 
selves against  the  general  change  which  was  preparing. 


20^ 


234«  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 


LECTURE    X. 

VARIOUS    ATT£:\IPTS    TO  FORM    THE   SEVERAL   SOCIAL    ELEMENTS 
INTO    ONE    SOCIETY. 

At  the  commencement  of  this  lecture  I  wish,  at  once, 
to  determine  its  object  with  precision.  It  will  be  recol- 
lected, that  one  of  the  first  facts  that  struck  us,  was  the 
diversity,  the  separation,  the  independence,  of  the  ele- 
ments of  ancient  European  society.  The  feudal  nobility, 
the  clergy,  and  the  commons,  had  each  a  position,  laws, 
and  manners, ^entirely  different;  they  formed  so  many 
distinct  societies,  whose  mode  of  government  was  inde- 
pendent of  each  other.  They  were  in  some  measure 
connected,  and  in  contact,  but  no  real  union  existed  be- 
tween them  J-  to  speak  correctly,  they  did  not  form  a 
nation — a  state. 

The  fusion  of  these  distinct  portions  of  society  into  one 
is,  at  length,  accomplished ;  this  is  precisely  the  distinc- 
tive organization,  the  essential  characteristic  of  modern 
society.  The  ancient  social  elements  are  now  reduced  to 
two — the  government  and  the  people ;  that  is  to  say, 
diversity  ceased  and  similitude  introduced  union.  Before, 
however,  this  result  took  place,  and  even  with  a  view  to 
its  prevention,  many  attempts  were  made  to  bring  all  these 
separate  portions  of  society  together,  without  destroying 
their  diversity  and  independence.  No  positive  attack  was 
made  on  the  peculiar  position  and  privileges  of  each  por- 
tion, on  their  distinctive  nature,  and  yet  there  was  an  at* 
tempt  made  to  form  them  into  one  state,  one  national  body, 
to  bring  them  all  under  one  and  the  same  government. 

All  these  attempts  failed.     The   result  which  I  have 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  235 

noticed  above,  the  union  of  modern  society,  attests  their 
want  of  success.  Even  in  those  parts  of  Europe  where 
some  traces  of  the  ancient  diversity  of  the  social  elements 
are  still  to  be  met  with,  in  Germany,  for  instance,  where  a 
real  feudal  nobility  and  a  distinct  body  of  burghers  still 
exist ;  in  England,  where  we  see  an  established  Church 
enjoying  its  own  revenues  and  its  own  peculiar  jurisdic- 
tion ;  it  is  clear  that  this  pretended  distinct  existence  is  a 
shadow,  a  falsehood :  that  these  special  societies  are  con- 
founded in  general  society,  absorbed  in  the  state,  govern- 
ed by  the  public  authorities,  controlled  by  the  same  sys- 
tem of  polity,  carried  away  by  the  same  current  of  ideas, 
the  same  manners.  Again  I  assert,  that  even  where  the 
form  still  exists,  the  separation  and  independence  of  the 
ancient  social  elements  have  no  longer  any  reality. 

At  the  same  time,  these  attempts  at  rendering  the  an- 
cient and  social  elements  co-ordinate,  without  changing 
their  nature,  at  forming  them  into  national  unity  without 
annihilating  their  variety,  are  entitled  to  an  important 
place  in  the  history  of  Europe.  The  period  which  now 
engages  our  attention — that  period  which  separates  ancient 
from  modem  Europe,  and  in  which  was  accomplished  the 
metamorphosis  of  European  society — is  almost  entirely 
filled  with  them.  Not  only  do  they  form  a  principal  part 
of  the  history  of  this  period,  but  they  had  a  considerable 
influence  on  after  events,  on  the  manner  in  which  was 
effected  the  reduction  of  the  various  social  elements  to 
two — the  government  and  the  people.  It  is  clearly,  then, 
of  great  importance,  that  we  should  become  well  acquaint- 
ed with  all  those  endeavours  at  political  organization 
which  were  made  from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  centu- 
ry, for  the  purpose  of  creating  nations  and  governments, 
without  destroying  the  diversity  of  secondary  societies 
placed  by  the  side  of  each  other.  These  attempts  form 
the  subject  of  the  present  lecture — a  laborious  and  even 
painful  task. 


236  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

All  these  attempts  at  political  organization  did  not,  cer- 
tainly, originate  from  a  good  motive  ;  too  many  of  them 
arose  from  selfishness  and  tyranny.  Yet  some  of  them 
were  pure  and  disinterested  ;  some  of  them  had,  truly, 
for  their  object  the  moral  and  social  welfare  of  mankind. 
Society,  at  this  time,  was  in  such  a  state  of  incoherence, 
of  violence,  and  iniquity,  as  could  not  but  be  extremely 
offensive  to  men  of  enlarged  views — to  men  who  pos- 
sessed elevated  sentiments,  and  who  laboured  incessantly 
to  discover  the  means  of  improving  it.  Yet  even  the 
best  of  these  noble  attempts  miscarried  ;  and  is  not  the 
loss  of  so  much  courage — of  so  many  sacrifices  and  en- 
deavours— of  so  much  virtue,  a  melancholy  spectacle'? 
And  what  is  still  more  painful,  a  still  more  poignant  sor- 
row, not  only  did  these  attempts  at  social  melioration  fail, 
but  an  enormous  mass  of  error  and  of  evil  was  mingled 
with  them.  Notwithstanding  good  intention,  the  majori- 
ty of  them  were  absurd,  and  show  a  profound  ignorance  of 
reason,  of  justice,  of  the  rights  of  humanity,  and  of  the 
conditions  of  the  social  state;  so  that  not  only  were  they 
unsuccessful,  but  it  was  right  that  they  should  be  so. 
We  have  here  a  spectacle,  not  only  of  the  hard  lot  of  hu- 
manity, but  also  of  its  weakness.  We  may  here  see  how 
the  smallest  portion  of  truth  suffices  so  to  engage  the 
whole  attention  of  men  of  superior  intellect,  that  they 
forget  every  thing  else,  and  become  blind  to  all  that  is  not 
comprised  within  the  narrow  horizon  of  their  ideas.  We 
may  here  see  how  the  existence  of  ever  so  small  a  parti- 
cle of  justice  in  a  cause  is  sufficient  to  make  them  lose 
sight  of  all  the  injustice  which  it  contains  and  permits. 
This  display  of  the  vices  and  follies  of  man  is,  in  my 
opinion,  still  more  melancholy  to  contemplate  than  the 
misery  of  this  condition  ;  his  faults  affect  me  more  than 
his  sufferings.  The  attempts  already  alluded  to  will  bring 
man  before  us  in  both  these  situations  ;  still  we  must  not 
shun  the  painful  retrospect  3  it  behooves  us  not  to  flinch 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  237 

from  doing  justice  to  those  men,  to  those  ages  that 
have  so  often  erred,  so  miserably  failed,  and  yet  have 
displayed  such  noble  virtues,  made  such  powerful  efforts, 
merited  so  much  glory. 

The  attempts  at  political  organization  which  were  form- 
ed from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  centuries  were  of 
two  kinds  :  one  having  for  its  object  the  predominance  of 
one  of  the  social  elements ;  sometimes  the  clergy,  some- 
times the  feudal  nobility,  sometimes  the  free  cities,  and 
making  all  the  others  subordinate  to  it,  and  by  such  a  sac- 
rifice to  introduce  unity;  the  other  proposed  to  cause  all 
the  different  societies  to  agree  and  to  act  together,  leav- 
ing to  each  portion  its  liberty,  and  ensuring  to  each  its  due 
share  of  influence. 

The  attempts  of  the  former  kind  are  much  more  open 
to  suspicion  of  self-interest  and  tyranny  than  the  latter  j 
in  fact  they  were  not  spotless ;  from  their  very  nature 
they  were  essentially  tyrannical  in  their  mode  of  execu- 
tion ;  yet  some  of  them  might  have  been,  and  indeed 
were,  conceived  in  a  spirit  of  pure  intention,  and  with  a 
view  to  the  welfare  and  advancement  of  mankind. 

The  first  attempt  which  presents  itself,  is  the  attempt 
at  theocratical  organization ;  that  is  to  say,  the  design  of 
bringing  all  the  other  societies  into  a  state  of  submission 
to  the  principles  and  sway  of  ecclesiastical  society. 

I  must  here  refer  to  what  I  have  already  said  relative  to 
the  history  of  the  Church.  T  have  endeavoured  to  show 
what  were  the  principles  it  developed — what  was  the  legi- 
timate part  of  each — how  these  principles  arose  from  the 
natural  course  of  events — the  good  and  the  evil  produced 
by  them.  I  have  characterized  the  different  stages  through 
which  the  Church  passed  from  the  eighth  to  the  twelfth 
century.  I  have  pointed  out  the  state  of  the  imperial 
Church,  of  the  barbarian  Church,  of  the  feudal  Church, 
and  lastly,  of  the  theocratic  Church.     I  take  it  for  granted 


238  '  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

that  all  this  is  present  in  your  recollection,  and  I  shall 
now  endeavour  to  show  you  what  the  clergy  did  in  order 
to  obtain  the  government  of  Europe,  and  why  they  failed 
in  obtaining  it. 

The  attempt  at  theocratic  organization  appeared  at  an 
early  period,  both  in  the  acts  of  the  court  of  Rome,  and 
in  those  of  the  clergy  in  general ;  it  naturally  proceeded 
from  the  political  and  moral  superiority  of  the  Church  ; 
but,  from  the  commencement,  such  obstacles  were  thrown 
in  its  way,  that,  even  in  its  greatest  vigour,  it  never  had 
the  power  to  overcome  them. 

The  first  obstacle  was  the  nature  itself  of  Christianity. 
Very  different,  in  this  respect,  from  the  greater  part  of  re- 
ligious creeds,  Christianity  established  itself  by  persuasion 
alone,  by  simple  moral  efforts  ;  even  at  its  birth  it  was  not 
armed  with  power  ;  in  its  earliest  years  it  conquered  by 
words  alone,  and  its  only  conquest  was  the  souls  of  men. 
Even  after  its  triumph,  even  when  the  Church  was  in  pos- 
session of  great  wealth  and  consideration,  the  direct  gov- 
ernment of  society  was  not  placed  in  its  hands.  Its  ori- 
gin, purely  moral,  springing  from  mental  influence  alone, 
was  implanted  in  its  constitution.  It  possessed  a  vast  in- 
fluence, but  it  had  no  power.  It  gradually  insinuated  it- 
self into  the  municipal  magistracies  ;  it  acted  povi^^erfully 
upon  the  emperors  and  upon  all  their  agents  ;  but  the  posi- 
tive administration  of  public  affairs — the  government,  pro- 
perly so  called — was  not  possessed  by  the  Church.  Now, 
a  system  of  government,  a  theocracy,  as  well  as  any  other, 
cannot  be  established  in  an  indirect  manner,  by  mere  influ- 
ence alone  ;  it  must  possess  the  judicial  and  ministerial 
offices,  the  command  of  the  forces,  be  in  receipt  of  the 
imposts,  have  the  disposal  of  the  revenues,  in  a  word,  it 
must  govern — take  possession  of  society.  Force  of  per- 
suasion may  do  much,  it  m.ay  obtain  great' influence  over 
a  people,  and  even  over  governments  its  sway  may  be  very 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  239 

powerful  j  but  it  cannot  govern,  it  cannot  found  a  system, 
it  cannot  take  possession  of  the  future.  Such  has  been, 
even  from  its  origin,  the  situation  of  the  Christian  Church  ; 
it  has  always  sided  with  government,  but  never  super- 
seded it,  and  taken  its  place ;  a  great  obstacle,  which  the 
attempt  at  theocratic  organization  was  never  able  to  sur- 
mount. 

The  attempt  to  establish  a  theocracy  very  soon  met 
with  a  second  obstacle.  When  the  Roman  empire  was 
destroyed,  and  the  barbarian  states  were  established  on 
its  ruins,  the  Christian  Church  was  found  amongst  the 
conquered.  It  was  necessary  for  it  to  escape  from  this  sit- 
uation ;  to  begin  by  converting  the  conquerors,  and  thus 
to  raise  itself  to  their  rank.  This  accomplished,  when  the 
Church  aspired  to  dominion,  it  had  to  encounter  the  pride 
and  the  resistance  of  the  feudal  nobility.  Europe  is 
greatly  indebted  to  the  laic  members  of  the  feudal  system 
in  the  eleventh  century  :  the  people  were  almost  com- 
pletely subjugated  by  the  Church ;  sovereigns  could 
scarcely  protect  themselves  from  its  domination  ;  the  feu- 
dal nobility  alone  would  never  submit  to  its  yoke,  would 
never  give  way  to  the  power  of  the  clergy.  We  have 
only  to  recall  to  our  recollection  the  general  appearance 
of  the  middle  ages,  in  order  to  be  struck  with  the  singular 
mixture  of  loftiness  and  submission,  of  blind  faith  and 
liberty  of  mind,  in  the  connexion  of  the  lay  nobility  with 
the  priests.  We  there  find  some  of  the  remnants  of  their 
primitive  situation.  It  may  be  remembered  how  I  endea- 
voured to  describe  the  origin  of  the  feudal  system,  its 
first  elements,  and  the  manner  in  which  feudal  society 
first  formed  itself  around  the  habitation  of  the  possessor 
of  the  fief.  I  remarked  how  much  the  priest  was  there 
below  the  lord  of  the  fief.  Yes,  and  there  always  remained, 
in  the  hearts  of  the  feudal  nobility,  a  feeling  of  this  situ- 
ation j  they  always  considered  themselv'es  as  not  only  in- 


240  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

dependent  of  the  Cliurch,  but  as  its  superior, — as  alone 
called  upon  to  possess,  and  in  reality  to  govern,  the  coun- 
try ;  they  were  willing  always  to  live  on  good  terms  with 
the  clergy,  but  at  the  same  time  insisting  that  each  should 
perform  his  own  part,  the  one  not  infringing  upon  the  du- 
ties of  the  other.  During  many  centuries  it  was  the  lay 
aristocracy  who  maintained  the  independence  of  society 
with  regard  to  the  Church ;  they  boldly  defended  it  when 
the  sovereigns  and  the  people  were  subdued.  They  were 
the  first  to  oppose,  and  probably  contributed  more  than 
any  other  power  to  the  failure  of  the  attempt  at  a  theo- 
cratic organization  of  society. 

A  third  obstacle  stood  much  in  the  way  of  this  attempt, 
an  obstacle  which  has  been  but  little  noticed,  and  the 
effect  of  which  has  often  been  misunderstood. 

In  all  parts  of  the  world  where  a  clergy  made  itself 
master  of  society,  and  forced  it  to  submit  to  a  theocratic 
organization,  the  government  always  fell  into  the  hands  of 
a  married  clergy,  of  a  body  of  priests  who  were  enabled 
to  recruit  their  ranks  from  their  own  society.  Examine 
history;  look  to  Asia  and  Egypt;  every  powerful  theoc- 
racy you  will  find  to  have  been  the  work  of  a  priesthood, 
of  a  society  complete  within  itself,  and  which  had  no  occa- 
sion to  borrow  of  any  other. 

But  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy  placed  the  Christian  priest- 
hood in  a  very  different  situation  ;  it  was  obliged  to  have 
recourse  incessantly  to  lay  society  in  order  to  continue  its 
existence  ;  it  was  compelled  to  seek  at  a  distance,  among 
all  stations,  all  social  professions,  for  the  means  of  its  dura- 
tion. In  vain,  attachment  to  their  order  induced  them  to 
labour  assiduously  for  the  purpose  of  assimilating  these  dis- 
cordant elements ;  some  of  the  original  qualities  of  these 
new  comers  ever  remain ;  citizens  or  gentlemen,  they  al- 
ways retained  some  vestige  of  their  former  disposition,  of 
their  early  habits.  Doubtless  the  Catholic  clergy,  by  being 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  241 

placed  in  a  lonely  situation  by  celibacy,  by  being  cut  off,  as 
it  were,  from  the  common  life  of  men,  became  more  isolat- 
ed, and  separate  from  society;  but  then  it  was  forced  con- 
tinually to  have  recourse  to  this  same  lay  society,  to  re- 
cruit, to  renew  itself  from  it,  and  consequently  to  parti- 
cipate in  the  moral  revolutions  which  it  underwent ;  and 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  stating  it  as  my  opinion,  that  this 
necessity,  which  was  always  arising,  did  much  more  to 
prevent  the  success  of  the  attempt  at  theocratic  organi- 
zation, than  the  esprit  de  corps,  strongly  supported  as  it 
Avas  by  celibacy,  did  to  forward  it. 

The  clergy,  indeed,  found  within  its  own  body  the  most 
powerful  opponents  of  this  attempt.  Much  has  been  said 
of  the  unity  of  the  Church,  and  it  is  true  that  it  has  con- 
stantly endeavoured  to  obtain  this  unity,  and  in  some  par- 
ticulars has  had  the  good  fortune  to  succeed.  But  we 
must  not  suffer  ourselves  to  be  imposed  upon  by  high- 
sounding  words,  nor  by  partial  facts.  What  society  has 
offered  to  our  view  a  greater  number  of  civil  dissensions, 
has  been  subject  to  more  dismemberments  than  the  clergy  ] 
What  society  has  suffered  more  from  divisions,  from  agi- 
tations, from  disputes,  than  the  ecclesiastical  nation  1  The 
national  churches  of  the  majority  of  European  states  have 
been  incessantly  at  variance  with  the  Roman  court ;  the 
councils  have  been  at  war  with  the  popes  ;  heresies  have 
been  innumerable  and  ever  springing  up  anew  ;  schism 
always  breaking  out ;  nowhere  was  ever  witnessed  such 
a  diversity  of  opinions,  so  much  rancour  in  dispute,  such 
minute  parcelling  out  of  power.  The  internal  state  of 
the  Church,  the  disputations  which  have  taken  place,  the 
revolutions  by  which  it  has  been  agitated,  have  been  per- 
haps the  greatest  of  all  obstacles  to  the  triumph  of  that 
theocratical  organization  which  the  Church  endeavour- 
ed to  impose  upon  society. 

All  these  obstacles  were  visibly  in  action  even  so  early 
21 


<i42  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

as  the  fifth  century,  even  at  the  commencement  of  the 
great  attempt  of  which  we  are  now  speaking.  They  did 
not,  however,  prevent  the  continuance  of  its  exertions, 
nor  retard  its  progress  during  several  centuries.  The 
period  of  its  greatest  glory,  its  crisis,  as  it  may  be  term- 
ed, was  the  reign  of  Gregory  the  Seventh,  at  the  end  of 
the  eleventh  century.  We  have  already  seen  that  the  pre- 
dominant w^ish  of  Gregory  was  to  render  the  world  sub- 
servient to  the  clergy,  the  clergy  to  the  pope,  and  to  form 
Europe  into  one  immense  and  regular  theocracy.  In  the 
scheme  by  which  this  was  to  be  effected,  this  great  man 
appears,  so  far  as  one  can  judge  of  events  which  took 
place  so  long  ago,  to  have  committed  two  great  faults — 
one  as  a  theorist,  the  other  as  a  revolutionist.  The  first 
consisted  in  the  pompous  proclamation  of  his  plan  ;  in  his 
giving  a  systematical  detail  of  his  principles  relative  to  the 
nature  and  the  rights  of  spiritual  powder,  of  drawing  from 
them  beforehand,  like  a  severe  logician,  their  remotest, 
their  ultimate  consequences.  He  thus  threatened  and 
even  attacked  all  the  lay  sovereignties  of  Europe,  without 
having  secured  the  means  of  success :  not  considering 
that  success  in  human  affairs  is  not  to  be  obtained  by  such 
absolute  proceedings,  or  by  a  mere  appeal  to  a  philosophic 
argument.  Gregory  the  Seventh  also  fell  into  the  com- 
mon error  of  all  revolutionists — that  of  attempting  more 
than  they  can  perform,  and  of  not  fixing  the  measure  and 
limits  of  their  enterprises  within  the  bounds  of  possibilitj^. 
In  order  to  hasten  the  predominance  of  his  opinions,  he 
entered  into  a  contest  against  the  Empire,  against  all  sove- 
reigns, even  against  the  great  body  of  the  clergy  itself. 
He  never  temporized — he  consulted  no  particular  inter- 
ests, but  openly  proclaimed  his  determination  to  reign  over 
all  kingdoms  as  well  as  over  all  intellects ;  and  thus  rais- 
ed up  against  him,  not  only  all  temporal  powers,  who  dis- 
covered the  pressing  danger  of  their  situation,  but  also  all 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  243 

those  who  advocated  the  right  of  free  inquiry,  a  party 
which  now  began  to  show  itself,  and  dreaded  and  exclaim- 
ed against  all  tyranny  over  the  human  mind.  It  seems 
indeed  probable,  on  the  whole,  that  Gregory  the  Seventh 
injured  rather  than  advanced  the  cause  which  he  wished 
to  serve. 

This  cause,  however,  still  continued  to  prosper  through- 
out the  whole  of  the  twelfth  and  down  to  the  middle  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  This  was  the  epoch  of  the  greatest 
power  and  splendour  of  the  Church.  I  do  not  think  it  can 
be  said  that  during  this  period  she  made  much  progress  ; 
to  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Innocent  III.  she  rather  dis- 
played her  glory  and  power  than  increased  them.  But  at 
this  very  moment  of  her  apparently  greatest  success,  a 
popular  reaction  seemed  to  declare  war  against  her  in  almost 
every  part  of  Europe.  In  the  south  of  France  broke  out 
the  heresy  of  the  Albigenses,  which  carried  away  a  nume- 
rous and  powerful  society.  Almost  at  the  same  time  simi- 
lar notions  and  desires  appeared  in  the  north,  in  Flanders. 
WickHffe,  only  a  little  later,  attacked  in  England,  with 
great  talent,  the  power  of  the  Church,  and  founded  a  sect 
which  was  not  destined  to  perish.  Sovereigns  soon  be- 
gan to  follow  the  bent  of  their  nations.  It  was  only  at 
the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  that  the  emperors 
of  the  house  of  Hohenstaufen,  who  deservedly  rank  among 
the  most  able  and  powerful  sovereigns  of  Europe,  were 
overcome  in  their  struggle  with  the  Holy  See  ;  yet  before 
the  end  of  the  same  century,  Saint  Louis,  the  most  pious 
of  monarchs,  proclaimed  the  independence  of  temporal 
power,  and  published  the  first  pragmatic  sanction,  which 
has  served  as  the  basis  of  all  the  following.  At  the  open- 
ing of  the  fourteenth  century  began  the  quarrel  between 
Philip  the  Bel  with  Boniface  VIII.:  Edward  I.  of  England 
was  not  more  obedient  to  the  court  of  Rome.  At  this 
epoch  it  is  evident,  that  the  attempt  at  theocratic  organi- 


244  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

zation  had  failed  ;  the  Church  henceforward  acted  only 
upon  the  defensive  ;  she  no  longer  attempted  to  force  her 
system  upon  Europe  ;  but  only  considered  how  she  might 
keep  what  she  possessed.  It  is  at  the  end  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  that  truly  dates  the  emancipation  of  the 
laic  society  of  Europe  ;  it  was  then  that  the  Church  gave 
up  her  pretensions  to  its  possession. 

For  a  long  time  before  this  she  had  renewed  this  pre- 
tension in  the  very  sphere  in  which  it  appeared  most  like- 
ly for  her  to  be  successful.  For  a  long  time  in  Italy  itself, 
even  around  the  very  throne  of  the  Church,  theocracy  had 
completely  failed,  and  given  way  to  a  system  its  very 
opposite  in  character:  to  that  attempt  at  democratic  or- 
ganization, of  which  the  Italian  republics  are  the  type, 
and  which  displayed  so  brilliant  a  career  in  Europe  from 
the  eleventh  to  the  sixteenth  century. 

It  w411  be  remembered,  that,  when  speaking  of  the  free 
cities,  of  their  history,  and  of  the  manner  of  their  forma- 
tion, I  observed  that  their  growth  had  been  more  precocious 
and  vigorous  in  Italy  than  in  any  other  country ;  they  were 
here  niore  numerous,  as  well  as  more  wealthy,  than  in 
Gaul,  England,  or  Spain ;  the  Roman  municipal  system 
had  been  preserved  with  more  life  and  regularity.  Besides 
this,  the  provinces  of  Italy  were  less  fitted  to  become  the 
habitation  of  its  new  masters  than  the  rest  of  Europe. 
The  lands  had  been  cleared,  drained,  and  cultivated  j  it 
was  not  covered  with  forests,  and  the  barbarians  could 
not  here  devote  their  lives  to  the  chase,  or  find  occupations 
similar  to  what  had  amused  them  in  Germany.  A  part  of 
this  country,  moreover,  did  not  belong  to  them.  The 
south  of  Italy,  the  Campania,  Romana,  Ravenna,  were  still 
dependent  on  the  Greek  emperors.  Favoured  by  distance 
from  the  seat  of  government,  and  by  the  vicissitudes  of  war, 
the  republican  system  soon  took  root,  and  grew  very  fast 
in  this  portion  of  the  country.     Italy,  too,  besides  having 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  245 

never  been  entirely  subdued  by  the  barbarians,  was  fa- 
voured by  the  circumstance,  that  the  conquerors  who  over- 
ran it  did  not  remain  its  tranquil  and  lasting  possessors. 
The  Ostrogoths  were  destroyed  and  driven  off  by  Belisa- 
rius  and  Narsis :  the  kingdom  of  the  Lombards  was  not 
permanent.  The  Franks  overthrew  it  under  Pepin  and 
Charlemagne,  who,  without  exterminating  the  Lombard 
population,  found  it  their  interest  to  ally  themselves  with 
the  ancient  Italian  inhabitants,  in  order  to  contend  against 
the  Lombards  with  more  success.  The  barbarians,  then, 
never  became  in  Italy,  as  in  the  other  parts  of  Europe,  the 
exclusive  and  quiet  masters  of  the  territory  and  people. 
And  thus  it  happened  that  the  feudal  system  never  made 
much  progress  beyond  the  Alps,  where  it  was  but  weakly 
established,  and  its  members  few  and  scattered.  Neither 
did  the  great  territorial  proprietors  ever  gain  that  prepon- 
derance here,  which  they  did  in  Gaul  and  other  countries, 
but  it  continued  to  rest  with  the  towns.  When  this  result 
clearly  showed  itself,  a  great  number  of  the  possessors  of 
fiefs,  moved  by  choice  or  necessity,  left  their  country 
dwellings  and  took  up  their  abode  within  the  walls  of  some 
city.  The  barbarian  nobles  made  themselves  burgesses. 
It  is  easy  to  imagine  what  strength  and  superiority  the 
towns  of  Italy  acquired,  compared  with  the  other  commu- 
nities of  Europe,  by  this  single  circumstance.  Wh?it  we 
have  chiefly  dwelt  upon,  as  most  observable  in  the  char- 
acter of  town  populations,  is  their  timidity  and  weakness. 
The  burgesses  appear  like  so  many  courageous  freedmen, 
struggling  with  toil  and  care  against  a  master,  always  at 
their  gates.  The  fate  of  the  Italian  towns  was  widely 
different ;  the  conquering  and  conquered  populations  here 
mixed  together  within  the  same  walls ;  the  towns  had  not 
the  trouble  to  defend  themselves  against  a  neighbourir_g 
master  ;  their  inhabitants  were  citizens,  who,  at  least  for 
the  most  part,  had  always  been  free  ;  who  defended  their 
21* 


*H&'  GENERAL    HISTaRY    OF 

independence  and  their  rights  against  distant  foreign 
sovereigns ;  at  one  time  against  the  kings  of  the  Franks, 
and,  at  a  later  period,  against  the  emperors  of  Germany. 
This  will  in  some  measure  account  for  the  immense  and 
precocious  superiority  of  the  Italian  cities ;  while  in  other 
countries  we  see  poor  insignificant  communities  arise  after 
great  trouble  and  exertion  ;  we  here  see  shoot  up,  almost 
at  once,  republics — states. 

Thus  becomes  explained,  why  the  attempt  at  republican 
organization  was  so  successful  in  this  part  of  Europe.  It 
repressed,  almost  in  its  childhood,  the  feudal  system,  and 
became  the  prevailing  form  in  society.  Still  it  was  but 
little  adapted  to  spread  or  endure  ;  it  contained  but  few 
germs  of  melioration,  a  necessary  condition  for  the  ex- 
tension and  duration  of  any  form  of  government. 

In  looking  at  the  history  of  the  Italian  republics,  from 
the  eleventh  to  the  fifteenth  century,  we  are  struck  with 
two  facts,  seemingly  contradictory,  yet  still  indisputable. 
We  see  passing  before  us  a  wonderful  display  of  courage, 
of  activity,  and  of  genius;  an  amazing  prosperity  is  the 
result :  we  see  a  movement  and  a  liberty  unknown  to  the 
rest  of  Europe.  But  if  we  ask  what  was  the  real  state  of 
the  inhabitants,  how  they  passed  their  lives,  what  was  their 
real  share  of  happiness,  the  scene  changes  ;  there  is,  per- 
haps, no  history  so  sad,  so  gloomy  :  no  period,  perhaps, 
during  which  the  lot  of  man  appears  to  have  been  so  agita- 
ted, subject  to  so  many  deplorable  chances,  and  which  so 
abounds  in  dissensions,,  crimes,  and  misfortunes.  Another 
fact  strikes  us  at  the  same  moment :  in  the  political  life  of 
the  greater  part  of  these  republics,  liberty  was  always 
growing  less  and  less.  The  want  of  security  was  so  great, 
that  the  people  were  unavoidably  driven  to  take  shelter  in 
a  system  less  stormy,  less  popular,  than  that  in  which  the 
state  existed.  Look  at  the  history  of  Florence,  Venice, 
Genoa,  Milan,  or  Pisa;  in  all  of  them  we  find  the  course 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  247 

of  events,  instead  of  aiding  the  progress  of  liberty,  instead 
of  enlarging  the  circle  of  institutions,  tending  to  repress 
it ;  tending  to  concentrate  power  in  the  hands  of  a  small- 
er number  of  individuals.  In  a  word,  we  find  in  these 
republics,  otherwise  so  energetic,  so  brilliant,  and  so  rich, 
two  things  wanting — security  of  life,  the  first  requisite  in 
the  social  state,  and  the  progress  of  institutions. 

From  these  causes  sprung  a  new  evil,  which  prevented 
the  attempt  at  republican  organization  from  extending 
itself.  It  was  from  without — it  was  from  foreign  sove- 
reigns, that  the  greatest  danger  was  threatened  to  Italy. 
Still  this  danger  never  succeeded  in  reconciling  these 
republics,  in  making  them  all  act  in  concert ;  they  were 
never  ready  to  resist  in  common  the  common  enemy.  This 
has  led  many  Italians.^  the  most  enlightened,  the  best  of 
patriots,  to  deplore,  in  the  present  day,  the  republican  sys- 
tem of  Italy  in  the  middle  ages,  as  the  true  cause  which 
hindered  it  from  becoming  a  nation  ;  it  was  parcelled  out, 
they  say^  into  a  multitude  of  little  states,  not  sufficiently 
master  of  their  passions  to  confederate,  to  constitute 
themselves  into  one  united  body.  They  regret  that  their 
country  has  not,  like  the  rest  of  Europe,  been  subject  to 
a,  despotic  centralization  which  would  have  formed  it  into 
a  nation,  and  rendered  it  independent  of  the  foreigner. 

It  appears,  then,  that  republican  organization,  even 
under  the  most  favourable  circumstances,  did  not  contain, 
at  this  period,  any  more  than  it  has  done  since,  the  princi- 
ple of  progress,  duration,  and  extension.  We  may  com- 
pare, up  to  a  certain  point,  the  organization  of  Italy,  in 
the  middle  ages^  to  that  of  ancient  Greece.  Greece,  like 
Italy,^^was  a  country  covered  with  little  republics,  always 
rivals,  sometimes  enemies,  and  sometimes  rallying  to- 
gether for  a  common  object.  In  this  comparison  the  ad- 
vantage is  altogether  on  the  side  of  Greece.  There  is  no 
doubt,  notwithstanding  the  frequent  iniquities  that  history 


248  GENERAL    HISTORY    OP 

makes  known,  but  that  there  was  much  more  order,  secu- 
rity, and  justice  in  the  interior  of  Athens,  Lacedemon, 
and  Thebes,  than  in  the  Italian  republics.  See,  how^ever, 
notwithstanding  this,  how  short  was  the  political  career 
of  Greece,  and  w^hat  a  principle  of  weakness  is  contained 
in  this  parcelling  out  of  territory  and  power.  No  sooner 
did  Greece  come  in  contact  with  the  great  neighbouring 
states,  wdth  Macedon  and  Rome,  than  she  fell.  These 
little  republics,  so  glorious  and  still  so  flourishing,  could 
not  coalesce  to  resist.  How  much  more  likely  was  this 
to  be  the  case  in  Italy,  where  society  and  human  reason 
had  made  no  such  strides  as  in  Greece,  and  consequently 
possessed  much  less  power. 

If  the  attempt  at  republican  organization  had  so  little 
chance  of  stability  in  Italy  where  it  had  triumphed,  where 
the  feudal  system  had  been  overcome,  it  may  easily  be 
supposed  that  it  was  much  less  likely  to  succeed  in  the 
other  parts  of  Europe. 

I  shall  take  a  rapid  survey  of  its  fortunes. 

There  was  one  portion  of  Europe  which  bore  a  great 
resemblance  to  Italy  ;  the  south  of  France,  and  the  adjoin- 
ing provinces  of  Spain,  Catalonia,  Navarre,  and  Biscay. 
In  these  districts  the  cities  had  made  nearly  the  same  pro- 
gress and  had  risen  to  considerable  importance  and  wealth. 
Many  little  feudal  nobles  had  here  allied  themselves  with 
the  citizens  ;  a  part  of  the  clergy  had  likewise  embraced 
their  cause  ;  in  a  word,  the  country  in  these  respects  was 
another  Italy.  So  also  in  the  course  of  the  eleventh  and 
beginning  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  towais  of  Provence, 
of  Languedoc,  and  Acquitaine,  made  a  political  effort  and 
formed  themselves  into  free  republics,  as  had  been  done 
by  the  towns  on  the  other  side  of  the  Alps.  But  the  south 
of  France  \vas  connected  with  a  very  powerful  branch  of 
the  feudal  system,  that  of  the  North.  The  heresy  of  the 
Albigenses  appeared.     A  war  broke   out  between  feudal 


CIVILIZATION    IN    BIODERN    EUROPE.  ^9 

France  and  municipal  France.  The  history  of  the  cru- 
sade against  the  Albigenses,  commanded  by  Simon  de 
Montfort,  is  well  known  :  it  was  the  struggle  of  the  feu- 
dalism of  the  North  against  the  attempt  at  democratic 
organization  of  the  South.  Notwithstanding  the  efforts 
of  Southern  patriotism,  the  North  gained  the  day  ;  politi- 
cal unity  was  wanting  in  the  South,  but  civilization  was 
not  yet  sufficiently  advanced  there  to  enable  men  to  bring 
it  about.  This  attempt  at  republican  organization  was 
put  down,  and  the  crusade  re-established  the  feudal  system 
in  the  south  of  France. 

A  republican  attempt  succeeded  better  a  little  later, 
among  the  Swiss  mountains.  Here,  the  theatre  was  very 
narrow,  the  struggle  was  only  against  a  foreign  monarch, 
who,  although  much  more  powerful  than  the  Swiss,  was 
not  one  of  the  most  formidable  sovereigns  of  Europe. 
The  contest  was  carried  on  with  a  great  display  of  cour- 
age. The  Swiss  feudal  nobility  allied  themselves,  for  the 
most  part,  with  the  cities ;  a  powerful  help,  which  also 
raised  the  character  of  the  revolution  it  sustained,  and 
stamped  it  with  a  more  aristocratical  and  stationary  char- 
acter than  it  seemingly  ought  to  have  borne. 

I  cross  to  the  north  of  France,  to  the  free  towns  of 
Flanders,  to  those  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  and  belong- 
ing to  the  Hanseatic  league.  Here,  the  democratic  organ- 
ization completely  triumphed  in  the  internal  government 
of  the  cities ;  but  from  its  origin,  it  is  evident,  that  it  was 
not  destined  to  take  entire  possession  of  society.  The 
free  towns  of  the  North  were  surrounded,  pressed  on 
every  side  by  feudalism,  by  barons,  and  sovereigns,  to 
such  an  extent  that  they  were  constantly  obliged  to  stand 
upon  the  defensive.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  that 
they  did  not  trouble  themselves  to  make  conquests  ;  they 
defended  themselves  sometimes  well  and  sometimes  badly. 
They  preserved  their  privileges,  but  they  remained  con- 


250  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

fined  to  the  inside  of  their  walls.  Within  these,  demo- 
cratic organization  was  shut  up  and  arrested  ;  if  we  walk 
abroad,  over  the  face  of  the  country,  we  find  no  sem- 
blance of  it. 

Such,  then,  was  the  state  of  the  republican  attempt  : 
triumphant  in  Italy,  but  with  little  hope  of  duration  and 
progress  j  vanquished  in  the  south  of  Gaul ;  victorious 
upon  a  small  scale  in  the  mountains  of  Switzerland  ',  w^hile 
in  the  North,  in  the  free  communities  of  Flanders,  the 
Rhine,  and  Hanseatic  league,  it  was  condemned  not  to 
appear  outside  their  walls.  Still,  even  in  this  state,  evi- 
dently inferior  to  the  other  elements  of  society,  it  inspired 
the  feudal  nobility  with  prodigious  terror.  The  barons 
became  jealous  of  the  wealth  of  the  cities,  they  feared 
their  power  ;  the  spirit  of  democracy  stole  into  the  coun- 
try ;  insurrections  of  the  peasantry  became  more  frequent 
and  obstinate.  In  nearly  every  part  of  Europe  a  coali- 
tion was  formed  among  the  nobles  against  the  free  cities. 
The  parties  were  not  equal ;  the  cities  were  isolated  ; 
there  was  no  correspondence  or  intelligence  between 
them  ;  all  was  local.  It  may  be  true  that  there  existed, 
between  the  burgesses  of  different  countries,  a  certain 
degree  of  sympathy;  the  success  or  reverses  of  the 
towns  of  Flanders,  in  their  struggles  with  the  dukes  of 
Burgundy,  excited  a  lively  sensation  in  the  French  cities  : 
but  this  was  very  fleeting,  and  led  to  no  result ;  no  tie, 
no  true  union  became  established  between  them ;  the 
free  communities  lent  no  assistance  to  one  another. 
The  position  of  feudalism  was  much  superior  ;  yet  di- 
vided, and  without  any  plan  of  its  own,  it  was  never  able 
to  destroy  them.  After  the  struggle  had  lasted  a  con- 
siderable time,  when  the  conviction  became  settled  that 
a  complete  victory  was  impossible,  concession  became 
necessary ;  these  petty  burgher  republics  were  acknow- 
ledged, negociated  with,  and   admitted   as    members  of 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  251 

the  state.  A  new  plan  was  now  begun,  a  new  attempt 
was  made  at  political  organization.  The  object  of 
this  was  to  conciliate,  to  reconcile,  to  make  to  live  and  act 
together,  in  spite  of  their  rooted  hostility,  the  various  ele- 
ments of  society;  that  is  to  say,  the  feudal  nobility,  the 
free  cities,  the  clergy,  and  monarchs.  It  is  to  this  at- 
tempt at  mixed  organization  that  I  have  still  to  claim  your 
attention. 

I  presume  there  is  no  one  who  is  not  acquainted  with 
the  nature  of  the  States-general  of  France,  the  Cortes  of 
Spain  and  Portugal,  the  Parliament  of  England,  and  the 
States  of  Germany.  The  elements  of  these  various 
assemblies  were  much  the  same ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
feudal  nobility,  the  clergy,  and  the  cities  or  commons, 
there  met  together  and  laboured  to  unite  themselves  into 
one  sole  society,  into  one  same  state,  under  one  same  law, 
one  same  authority.  Whatever  their  various  names,  this 
was  the  tendency,  the  design  of  all. 

Let  us  take,  as  the  type  of  this  attempt,  the  fact  which 
most  interests  us,  as  well  as  being  best  known  to  us — the 
States-general  of  France.  I  say  this  fact  is  best  known, 
while  I  am  still  sure  that  the  term  States-general  awakens 
in  none  of  you  more  than  a  vague  and  incomplete  idea. 
Who  can  say  what  there  was  in  it  of  stability,  of  regu- 
larity ;  the  number  of  its  members,  the  subjects  of  their 
deliberations,  the  times  at  which  they  were  convoked,  or 
the  length  of  their  sessions  1  Of  all  this  we  know  nothing, 
and  it  is  impossible  to  obtain  from  history  any  clear,  gene- 
ral, satisfactory  information  respecting  it.  The  best  ac- 
counts we  can  gather  from  the  history  of  France,  as  re- 
gards the  character  of  these  assemblies,  would  almost 
lead  us  to  consider  them  as  pure  accidents,  as  the  last 
political  resort  both  of  people  and  kings  :  the  last  resort 
of  kings,  when  they  had  no  money  and  knew  not  how  to 
free  themselves  from  embarrassment  j  the  last  resort  of  the 


20*2  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

people,  when  some  evil  became  so  great  that  they  knew 
not  what  remedy  to  apply  to  it.  The  nobles  formed  part 
of  the  States-general ;  so  did  the  clergy  ;  but  they  came  ta 
them  with  little  interest,  for  they  knew  well  that  it  was 
not  in  these  assemblies  that  they  possessed  the  greatest 
influence,  that  it  was  not  there  that  they  took  a  true  part 
in  the  government.  The  burgesses  themselves  were  not 
eager  to  attend  them  ;  it  was  not  a  right  which  they  were 
anxious  to  exercise,  but  rather  a  necessity  to  which  they 
submitted.  Again,  what  was  the  character  of  the  poli- 
tical proceedings  of  these  assemblies!  At  one  time  we 
find  them  perfectly  insignificant,  at  others  terrible.  If  the 
king  was  the  stronger,  their  humility  and  docility  were 
extreme  ;  if  the  situation  of  the  monarch  was  unfortunate, 
if  he  really  needed  the  assistance  of  the  States,  they  then 
became  factious,  either  the  instrument  of  some  aristocra- 
tic intrigue,  or  of  some  ambitious  demagogues.  Their 
works  died  almost  always  with  them  ;  they  promised  much, 
they  attempted  much, — and  did  nothing.  No  great  mea- 
sure which  has  truly  had  any  influence  upon  society  in 
France,  no  important  reform  either  in  the  general  legisla- 
tion or  administration,  ever  emanated  from  the  States-gene- 
ral. It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  they  have  been 
altogether  useless,  or  without  effect  ;  they  had  a  moral 
effect,  of  which  in  general  we  take  too  little  account  ;  they 
served  from  time  to  time  as  a  protestation  against  political 
servitude,  a  forcible  proclamation  of  certain  guardian 
principles, — such,  for  example,  as  that  a  nation  has  the 
right  to  vote  its  own  taxes,  to  take  part  in  its  outi  affairs, 
to  impose  a  responsibility  upon  the  agents  of  power. 
That  these  maxims  have  never  perished  in  France,  is 
mainly  owing  to  the  States-general;  and  it  is  no  slight 
service  rendered  to  a  country,  to  maintain  among  its  vir- 
tues, to  keep  alive  in  its  thoughts,  the  remembrance  and 
claims  of  liberty.     The   States-general  has  done  us  this 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  253 

service,  but  it  never  became  a  means  of  government ;  it 
never  entered  upon  political  organization ;  it  never  at- 
tained the  object  for  which  it  was  formed,  that  is  to  say, 
the  fusion  into  one  only  body  of  the  various  societies 
which  divided  the  country. 

The  Cortes  of  Portugal  and  Spain  offered  the  same  gene- 
ral result,  though  in  a  thousand  circumstances  they  differ. 
The  importance  of  the  Cortes  varied  according  to  the 
kingdoms,  and  times  at  which  they  were  held  ;  they  were 
most  powerful  and  most  frequently  convoked  in  Arragon 
and  Biscay,  during  the  disputes  for  the  successions  to  the 
crown,  and  the  struggles  against  the  Moors.  To  some  of 
the  Cortes — for  example,  that  of  Castile,  1370  and  1373 — 
neither  the  nobles  nor  the  clergy  w^ere  called.  There 
were  a  thousand  accidents  which  it  Avould  be  necessary  to 
notice,  if  we  had  time  to  look  closely  into  events  ;  but  in 
the  general  sketch  to  which  I  am  obliged  to  confine  my- 
self it  will  be  enough  to  state  that  the  Cortes,  like  the 
States-general  of  France,  have  been  an  accident  in  history, 
and  nev^er  a  sj'stem — never  a  political  organization,  or 
regi'lar  means  of  governm.ent. 

The  lot  of  England  has  been  different.  I  shall  not,  how- 
ever, enter  into  any  detail  upon  this  subject  at  present,  as 
it  is  my  intention  to  devote  a  future  lecture  to  the  special 
consideration  of  the  political  life  of  England.  All  I  shall 
now  do  is  to  say  a  few  words  upon  the  causes  which  gave 
it  a  direction  totally  different  from  that  of  the  continental 
states. 

And,  first,  there  w^ere  no  great  vassals,  no  subjects  suf- 
ficiently pov/erful  to  enter  single-handed  into  a  contest 
with  the  crown.  The  great  barons  were  obliged,  at  a 
very  early  period,  to  coalesce,  in  order  to  make  a  common 
resistance.  Thus  the  principle  of  association,  and  pro- 
ceedings truly  political,  were  forced  upon  the  high  aristo- 
cracy. Besides  this,  English  feudalism — the  little  holders 
22 


S54  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

of  fiefs — were  brought  by  a  train  of  circumstances,  which 
I  cannot  here  recount,  to  unite  themselves  with  the  bur- 
gher class,  to  sit  with  them  in  the  House  of  Commons; 
and  by  this,  the  Commons  obtained  in  England  a  power 
much  superior  to  those  on  the  Continent,  a  power  really 
capable  of  influencing  the  government  of  the  country. 
In  the  fourteenth  century,  the  character  of  the  English 
Parliament  was  already  formed  ;  the  House  of  Lords  was 
the  great  council  of  the  king,  a  council  eftectively  asso- 
ciated in  the  exercise  of  authority.  The  House  of  Com- 
mons, composed  of  deputies  from  the  little  possessors  of 
fiefs,  and  from  the  cities,  took,  as  yet,  scarcely  any  part 
in  the  government,  properly  so  called  ;  but  it  asserted  and 
established  rights,  it  defended  with  great  spirit  private 
and  local  interests.  Parliament,  considered  as  a  whole, 
did  not  yet  govern  ;  but  already  it  was  a  regular  institu- 
tion, a  means  of  government  adopted  in  principle,  and 
often  indispensable  in  fact.  Thus  the  attempt  to  bring 
together  the  various  elements  of  society,  and  to  form 
them  into  one  body  politic,  one  true  state  or  common- 
wealth, did  succeed  in  England  while  it  failed  in  every 
part  of  the  Continent. 

I  shall  not  offer  more  than  one  remark  upon  Germany, 
and  that  only  to  indicate  the  prevailing  character  of  its 
history.  The  attempts  made  here  at  political  organiza- 
tion, to  melt  into  one  body  the  various  elements  of  socie- 
ty, were  spiritless  and  coldly  followed  up.  These  social 
elements  had  remained  here  more  distinct,  more  indepen- 
dent than  in  the  rest  of  Europe.  Were  any  proof  of  this 
"wanting,  it  might  be  found  in  its  later  usages.  Germany 
is  the  only  country  of  Europe  (I  say  nothing  of  Poland 
and  the  Sclavonian  nations,  which  entered  so  very  late 
into  the  European  system  of  civilization)  in  which  feudal 
election  has  for  a  long  time  taken  part  in  the  election  of 
royalty  ;  it  is  likewise  the  only  country  of  Europe  in  which 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  255 

ecclesiastical  sovereigns  were  continued ;  the  only  one 
in  which  were  preserved  free  cities  with  a  true  political 
existence  and  sovereignty.  It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  the 
attempt  to  fuse  the  elements  of  primitive  European  socie- 
ty into  one  social  body,  must  have  been  much  less  active 
and  effective  in  Germany  than  in  any  other  nation. 

I  have  now  run  over  all  the  great  attempts  at  political 
organization  which  were  made  in  Europe,  down  to  the  end 
of  the  fourteenth  or  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century. 
All  these  failed.  I  have  endeavoured  to  point  out,  in 
going  along,  the  causes  of  these  failures ;  to  speak  truly, 
they  may  all  be  summed  up  in  one :  society  was  not  yet 
sufficiently  advanced  to  adapt  itself  to  unity ;  all  was  yet 
too  local,  too  special,  too  narrow :  too  many  differences 
prevailed  both  in  things  and  in  minds.  There  were  no 
general  interests,  no  general  opinions  capable  of  guiding, 
of  bearing  sway  over  particular  interests  and  particular 
opinions.  The  most  enlightened  minds,  the  boldest  think- 
ers, had  as  yet  no  just  idea  of  administration  or  justice 
truly  public.  It  was  evidently  necessary  that  a  very  ac- 
tive, powerful  civilization  should  first  mix,  assimilate, 
grind  together,  as  it  were,  all  these  incoherent  elements; 
it  was  necessary  that  there  should  first  be  a  strong  cen- 
tralization of  interests,  laws,  manners,  ideas  j  it  was 
necessary,  in  a  word,  that  there  should  be  created  a  public 
authority  and  a  public  opinion.  We  are  now  drawing  near 
to  the  period  in  which  this  great  work  was  at  last  consum- 
mated. Its  first  symptoms- — the  state  of  manners,  mind, 
and  opinions,  during  the  fifteenth  century,  their  tendency 
towards  the  formation  of  a  central  government  and  a  pub- 
lic opinion — will  be  the  subject  of  the  following  lecture. 


25S  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 


LECTURE    XI, 

CENTRALIZATION    OF    NATIONS    Ai\D    GOYERNRIENTS, 

We  have  now  reached  the  threshold  of  modern  history? 
in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term.  We  now  approach  that 
state  of  society  which  maybe  considered  as  our  own,  and 
the  institutions,  the  opinions,  and  the  manners  of  which 
were  those  of  France  forty  years  ago,  are  those  of  Europe 
still,  and,  notwithstanding  the  changes  produced  by  our 
revolution,  continue  to  exercise  a  powerful  influence  upon 
us.  It  is  in  the  sixteenth  century,  as  I  have  already  told 
you,  that  modern  society  really  commences.  Before 
entering  into  a  consideration  of  this  period,  let  us  review 
the  ground  over  which  we  have  already  passed.  \\  c 
have  discovered,  among  the  ruins  of  the  Roman  Empire, 
all  the  essential  elements  of  modern  Europe;  we  have 
seen  them  separate  themselves  and  expand,  each  on  its 
own  account,  and  independently  of  the  others.  We  have 
observed,  during  the  first  historical  period,  the  constant 
tendency  of  these  elements  to  separation,  and  to  a  local 
and  special  existence.  But  scarcely  has  this  object  ap- 
peared to  be  attained  ;  scarcely  have  feudalism,  municipal 
communities,  and  the  clergy,  each  taken  their  distinct 
place  and  form,  when  we  have  seen  them  tend  to  approxi- 
mate, unite,  and  form  themselves  into  a  general  social 
system,  into  a  national  body,  a  national  government.  To 
arrive  at  this  result,  the  various  countries  of  Europe 
had  recourse  to  all  the  different  systems  which  existed 
among  them  :  they  endeavoured  to  lay  the  foundations 
of  social  union,  and  of  political  and  moral  obligations^ 
on  the  principles    of  theocracy,    of  aristocracy^,  of   de- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  25*7 

mocracy,  and  of  monarchy.  Hitherto  all  these  attempts 
have  failed.  No  particular  system  has  been  able  to  take 
possession  of  society,  and  to  secure  it,  by  its  sway,  a  des- 
tiny truly  public.  We  have  traced  the  cause  of  this  fail- 
ure to  the  absence  of  general  interests  and  general  ideas : 
we  have  found  that  every  thing,  as  yet,  was  too  special, 
too  individual,  too  local ;  that  a  long  and  powerful  process 
of  centralization  was  necessary,  in  order  that  society 
might  become  at  once  extensive,  solid,  and  regular,  the 
object  which  it  necessarily  seeks  to  attain.  Such  was  the 
state  in  which  we  left  Europe  at  the  close  of  the  four- 
teenth century. 

Europe,  however,  was  then  very  far  from  understanding 
her  own  state,  such  as  I  have  now  endeavoured  to  explain 
it  to  you.  She  did  not  know  distinctly  what  she  required, 
or  what  she  was  in  search  of.  Yet  she  set  about  endea- 
vouring to  supply  her  wants  as  if  she  knew  perfectly  what 
they  w^ere.  When  the  fourteenth  century  had  expired, 
after  the  failure  of  every  attempt  at  political  organization, 
Europe  entered  naturally,  and,,  as  if  by  instinct,  into  the 
path  of  centralization.  It  is  the  characteristic  of  the  fif- 
teenth century  that  it  constantly  tended  to  this  result,  that 
it  endeavoured  to  create  general  interests  and  general 
ideas,  to  raise  the  minds  of  men  to  more  enlarged  views, 
and  to  create,  in  short,  what  had  not,  till  then,  existed  on 
a  great  scale — nations  and  governments. 

The  actual  accomplishment  of  this  change  belongs  to 
the  sixteenth  and  sev^enteenth  centuries,  though  it  was  in 
the  fifteenth  that  it  was  prepared.  It  is  this  preparation, 
this  silent  and  hidden  process  of  centralization,  both  in 
the  social  relations  and  in  the  opinions  of  men — a  process 
accomplished,  without  premeditation  or  design,  by  the 
natural  course  of  events — that  we  have  now  to  make  the 
subject  of  our  inquiry. 

It  is  thus,  that  man  advances  in  the  execution  of  a  plan 
22* 


258  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

which  he  has  not  conceived,  and  of  which  he  is  not  even 
aware.  He  is  the  free  and  intelligent  artificer  of  a  work 
which  is  not  his  own.  He  does  not  perceive  or  compre- 
hend it,  till  it  manifests  itself  by  external  appearances  and 
real  results  j  and  even  then  he  comprehends  it  very  in- 
completely. It  is  through  his  means,  however,  and  by 
the  development  of  his  intelligence  and  freedom,  that  it  is 
accomplished.  Conceive  a  great  machine,  the  design  of 
which  is  centered  in  a  single  mind,  though  its  various 
parts  are  intrusted  to  different  workmen,  separated  from, 
and  strangers  to  each  other.  No  one  of  them  understands 
the  work  as  a  whole,  nor  the  general  result  which  he  con- 
curs in  producing;  but  every  one  executes,  with  intelli- 
gence and  freedom,  by  rational  and  voluntary  acts,  the 
particular  task  assigned  to  him.  It  is  thus,  that  by  the 
hand  of  man,  the  designs  of  Providence  are  wrought  out 
in  the  government  of  tfie  world.  It  is  thus  that  the  two 
great  facts  which  are  apparent  in  the  history  of  civiliza- 
tion come  to  co-exist :  on  the  one  hand,  those  portions 
of  it  which  may  be  considered  as  fated,  or  which  hap- 
pen without  the  control  of  human  knowledge  or  will ;  on 
the  other  hand,  the  part  played  in  it  by  the  freedom  and 
intelligence  of  man,  and  what  he  contributes  to  it  by 
means  of  his  own  judgment  and  will. 

In  order  that  Ave  may  clearly  understand  the  fifteenth 
century;  in  order  that  we  may  give  a  distinct  account  of 
this  prelude,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  to  the  state  of 
society  in  modern  times,  we  will  separate  the  facts  which 
bear  upon  the  subject  into  different  classes.  We  will  first 
examine  the  political  facts — the  changes  which  have  tend- 
ed to  the  formation  either  of  nations  or  of  governments. 
From  thence  we  will  proceed  to  the  moral  facts  :  we  will 
consider  the  changes  which  took  place  in  ideas  and  in 
manners ;  and  we  shall  then  see  what  general  opinions 
began,  from  that  period,  to  be  in  a  state  of  preparation. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  259 

In  regard  to  political  facts,  in  order  to  proceed  with 
quickness  and  simplicity,  I  shall  survey  all  the  great  coun- 
tries of  Europe,  and  place  before  you  the  influence  which 
the  fifteenth  century  had  upon  them — how  it  found  them, 
how  it  left  them. 

I  shall  begin  with  France.  The  last  half  of  the  four- 
teenth, and  the  first  half  of  the  fifteenth  century,  Avere,  as 
you  all  know,  a  time  of  great  national  wars  against  the 
English.  This  was  the  period  of  the  struggle  for  the  in- 
dependence of  the  French  territory  and  the  French  name 
against  foreign  domination.  It  is  sufficient  to  open  the 
book  of  history,  to  see  with  what  ardour,  notwithstanding 
a  multitude  of  treasons  and  dissensions,  all  classes  of  so- 
ciety in  France  joined  in  this  struggle,  and  what  patriot- 
ism animated  the  feudal  nobility,  the  burghers,  and  even 
the  peasantry.  If  we  had  nothing  but  the  story  of  Joan 
of  Arc  to  show  the  popular  spirit  of  the  time,  it  alone 
would  sufifice  for  that  purpose.  Joan  of  Arc  sprang  from 
among  the  people  ;  it  was  by  the  sentiments,  the  religious 
belief,  the  passions  of  the  people,  that  she  was  inspired 
and  supported.  She  was  looked  upon  with  mistrust,  with 
ridicule,  with  enmity  even,  by  the  nobles  of  the  court  and 
the  leaders  of  the  army  ;  but  she  had  always  the  soldiers 
and  the  people  on  her  side.  It  was  the  peasants  of  Lor- 
raine who  sent  her  to  succour  the  citizens  of  Orleans. 
No  event  could  show  in  a  stronger  light  the  popular  char- 
acter of  that  war  and  the  feeling  with  which  the  v/hole 
country  engaged  in  it. 

Thus  the  nationality  of  France  began  to  be  formed. 
Down  to  the  reign  of  the  house  of  Valois,  the  feudal  char- 
acter preA'ailed  in  France  ;  a  French  nation,  a  French 
spirit,  French  patriotism,  as  yet  had  no  existence.  AVith 
the  princes  of  the  house  of  Valoise  begins  the  history  of 
France,  properly  so  called.  It  was  in  the  course  of  their 
wars,  amid  the  various  turns  of  their  fortune,  that,  for  the 


260  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

first  time,  the  nobility,  the  citizens,  the  peasants,  were 
united  by  a  moral  tie,  by  the  tie  of  a  common  name,  a 
common  honour,  and  by  one  burning  desire  to  overcome 
the  foreign  invader.  We  must  not,  however,  at  this  time, 
expect  to  find  among  them  any  real  political  spirit,  any 
great  design  of  unity  in  government  and  institutions,  ac- 
cording to  the  conceptions  of  the  present  day.  The  unity 
of  France,  at  that  period,  dwelt  in  her  name,  in  her  na- 
tional honour,  in  the  existence  of  a  national  monarchy, 
no  matter  of  what  character,  provided  that  no  foreigner 
had  any  thing  to  do  with  it.  It  w^as  in  this  way  that  the 
struggle  against  the  English  contributed  strongly  to  form 
the  French  nation,  and  to  impel  it  tow^ards  unity. 

At  the  same  time  that  France  was  thus  forming  herself 
in  a  moral  point  of  view,  she  was  also  extending  herself 
physically,  as  it  may  be  called,  by  enlarging,  fixing,  and 
consolidating  her  territory.  This  was  the  period  of  the 
incorporation  of  most  of  the  provinces  which  now  consti- 
tute France.  Under  Charles  VII.,  after  the  expulsion  of 
the  English,  almost  all  the  provinces  which  they  had  oc- 
cupied— Normandy,  Angoumois^  Touraine,  Poitou,  Saint- 
onge,  &;c.,  became  definitively  French.  Under  Louis  XL, 
ten  provinces,  three  of  which  have  been  since  lost  and 
regained,  w^ere  also  united  to  France — Roussillon  and 
Cerdagne,  Burgundy,  Franche-Conte,  Picardy,  Artois, 
Provence,  Maine,  Anjou,  and  Perche.  Under  Charles 
VIII.  and  Louis  XII.  the  suc<^essive  marriages  of  Anne 
with  these  two  kings  gave  her  Britany.  Thus,  at  the  same 
period,  and  during  the  course  of  the  same  events,  France, 
morally  as  well  as  physically^  acquired  at  once  strength 
and  unity. 

Let  us  turn  from  the  nation  to  the  government,  and  we 
shall  see  the  accomplishment  of  events  of  the  same  nature  j 
we  shall  advance  towards  the  same  result.  The  French 
gavernment  had  never  been  more  destitute  of  unity,  of  co- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  261 

hesion,  and  of  strength,  than  under  the  reign  of  Charles 
VI ,  and  dnring  the  first  part  of  the  reign  of  Charles  VII. 
At  the  end  of  this  reign,  the  appearance  of  every  thing  was 
changed.  There  were  evident  marks  of  a  power  which  was 
confirming,  extending,  organizing  itself.  All  the  great 
resources  of  government,  taxation,  military  force,  and 
administration  of  justice,  w^ere  created  on  a  great  scale, 
and  almost  simultaneously.  This  was  the  period  of  the 
formation  of  a  standing  army,  of  permanent  militia,  and 
of  compagnies-d- ordonnaiice^  consisting  of  cavalry,  free 
archers,  and  infantry.  By  these  companies,  Charles  VII. 
re-established  a  degree  of  order  in  the  provinces,  which 
had  been  desolated  by  the  license  and  exactions  of  the 
soldiery,  even  after  the  w^ar  had  ceased.  All  contempo- 
rary historians  expatiate  on  the  wonderful  effects  of  the 
compagnieS'd^ ordonnance.  It  was  at  this  period  that  the 
taille^  one  of  the  principal  revenues  of  the  crown,  was 
made  perpetual ;  a  serious  inroad  on  the  liberty  of  the 
people,  but  which  contributed  powerfully  to  the  regularity 
and  strength  of  the  government.  At  the  same  time  the 
great  instrument  of  power,  the  administration  of  justice, 
was  extended  and  organized  5  parliaments  w^ere  multi- 
plied, five  new  parliaments  having  been  instituted  in  a 
short  space  of  time  : — under  Louis  XI  ,  the  parliaments 
of  Grenoble  (in  1451),  of  Bordeaux  (in  1462),  and  of  Di- 
jon (in  1477)  ;  under  Louis  XII.,  the  parliaments  of  Rouen 
(in  1499),  and  of  Aix  (in  1501).  The  parliament  of  Paris 
also  acquired,  about  the  same  time,  much  additional  im- 
portance and  stability,  both  in  regard  to  the  administra- 
tion of  justice,  and  the  superintendence  of  the  police 
within  its  jurisdiction. 

Thus,  in  relation  to  the  military  force,  the  power  of 
taxation,  and  the  administration  of  justice,  that  is  to  say, 
in  regard  to  those  things  which  form  its  essence,  govern- 
ment acquired  in  France,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  a  char- 


262  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

acter  of  unity,  regularity,  and  permanence,  previously 
unknown  ;  and  the  feudal  powers  were  finally  superseded 
by  the  power  of  the  state. 

At  the  same  time,  too,  was  accomplished  a  change  of 
very  different  character ;  a  change  not  so  visible,  and 
which  has  not  so  much  attracted  the  notice  of  historians, 
but  still  more  important,  perhaps,  than  those  which  have 
been  mentioned  ; — the  change  effected  by  Louis  XI.  in 
the  mode  of  governing. 

A  great  deal  has  been  said  about  the  struggle  of  Louis 
XL  against  the  grandees  of  the  kingdom,  of  their  depres- 
sion, and  of  his  partiality  for  the  citizens  and  the  inferior 
classes.  There  is  truth  in  all  this,  though  it  has  been 
much  exaggerated,  and  though  the  conduct  of  Louis  XL 
towards  the  different  classes  of  society  more  frequently 
disturbed  than  benefited  the  state.  But  he  did  something 
of  deeper  import.  Before  his  time  the  government  had 
been  carried  on  almost  entirely  by  force,  and  by  mere 
physical  means.  Persuasion,  address,  care  in  working 
upon  men's  minds,  and  in  bringing  them  over  to  the  views 
of  the  government — in  a  word,  what  is  properly  called 
policy — a  policy,  indeed,  of  falsehood  and  deceit,  but  also 
of  management  and  prudence — had  hitherto  been  little 
attended  to.  Louis  XL  substituted  intellectual  for  mate- 
rial means,  cunning  for  force,  Italian  for  feudal  policy. 
Take  the  two  men  whose  rivalry  engrosses  this  period  of 
our  history,  Charles  the  Bold  and  Louis  XL  :  Charles  is 
the  representative  of  the  old  mode  of  governing ;  he  has 
recourse  to  no  other  means  than  violence  j  he  constantly 
appeals  to  arms  ;  he  is  unable  to  act  with  patience,  or  to 
address  himself  to  the  dispositions  and  tempers  of  men 
in  order  to  make  them  the  instruments  of  his  designs. 
Louis  XL,  on  the  contrary,  takes  pleasure  in  avoiding 
the  use  offeree,  and  in  gaining  an  ascendency  over  men, 
by  conversation  with  individuals^  and  by  skilfully  bring- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  263 

ing  into  play  their  interests  and  peculiarities  of  char- 
acter. It  was  not  the  public  institutions  or  the  exter- 
nal system  of  governnnent  that  he  changed  j  it  was  the 
secret  proceedings,  the  tactics,  of  power.  It  was  reserv- 
ed for  modern  times  to  attempt  a  still  greater  revolu- 
tion;  to  endeavour  to  introduce  into  the  means,  as  well 
as  the  objects,  of  public  policy,  justice  in  place  of  self- 
interest,  publicity  instead  of  cunning.  Still,  however,  a 
great  step  was  gained  by  renouncing  the  continued  use  of 
force,  by  calling  in  the  aid  of  intellectual  superiority,  by 
governing  through  the  understandings  of  men,  and  not  by 
overturning  every  thing  that  stood  in  the  way  of  the  ex- 
ercise of  power.  This  is  the  great  change  which,  among 
all  his  errors  and  crimes,  in  spite  of  the  perversity  of  his 
nature,  and  solely  by  the  strength  of  his  powerful  intel- 
lect, Louis  XI.  has  the  merit  of  having  begun. 

From  France  I  turn  to  Spain  j  and  there  I  find  move- 
ments of  the  same  nature.  It  was  also  in  the  fifteenth 
century  that  Spain  was  consolidated  into  one  kingdom. 
At  this  time  an  end  was  put  to  the  long  struggle  between 
the  Christians  and  Moors,  by  the  conquest  of  Grenada. 
Then,  too,  the  Spanish  territory  became  centralized :  by 
the  marriage  of  Ferdinand  the  catholic,  and  Isabella,  the 
two  principal  kingdoms,  Castile  and  Arragon,  were  united 
under  the  same  dominion.  In  the  same  manner  as  in 
France,  the  monarchy  was  extended  and  confirmed.  It 
was  supported  by  severer  institutions,  which  bore  more 
gloomy  names.  Instead  of  parliaments,  it  was  the  inqui- 
sition that  had  its  origin  in  Spain.  It  contained  the  germ 
of  what  it  afterwards  became  j  but  at  first  it  was  of  a  po- 
litical rather  than  a  religious  nature,  and  was  destined  to 
maintain  civil  order  rather  than  defend  religious  faith. 
The  analogy  between  the  countries  extends  beyond  their 
institutions  ;  it  is  observable  even  in  the  persons  of  the  soa'- 
ereigns.     With  less  subtlety  of  intellect,  and  a  less  active 


•264  GEiNERAL    HISTORY    OF 

and  intriguing  spirit,  Ferdinand  the  catholic,  in  his  char- 
acter and  governnment,  strongly  resembles  Louis  XI. 
1  pay  no  reirard'  to  arbitrary  comparisons  or  fanciful  par- 
allels ;  but  here  the  analogy  is  strong,  and  observable  in 
o-eneral  facts  as  well  as  in  minute  details. 

A  similar  analogy  may  be  discovered  in  Germany.  It 
was  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  in  1438,  that 
the  house  of  Austria  came  to  the  empire  ;  and  that  the  im- 
perial power  acquired  a  permanence  which  it  had  never 
before  possessed.  From  that  time  election  was  merely  a 
sanction  given  to  hereditary  right.  At  the  end  of  the  fif- 
teenth century,  Maximilian  I.  definitively  established  the 
preponderance  of  his  house  and  the  regular  exercise  of 
the  central  authority  ;  Charles  VII.  was  the  first  in  France 
who,  for  the  preservation  of  order,  created  a  permanent 
militia  ;  Maximilian,  too,  was  the  first  in  his  hereditary 
dominions,  who  accomplished  the  same  end  by  the  same 
means.  Louis  XL  had  established  in  France,  the  post- 
oflice  for  the  conveyance  of  letters;  Maximilian  I.  intro- 
duced it  into  Germany.  In  the  progress  of  civilization  the 
same  steps  were  everywhere  taken,  in  a  similar  way,  for 
the  advantage  of  central  government. 

Thehistory  of  England  in  the  fifteenth  century  consists 
of  two  great  events — the  war  with  France  abroad,  and  the 
contest  of  the  two  Roses  at  home.  These  two  wars, 
though  different  in  their  nature,  were  attended  with  simi- 
lar results.  The  contest  with  France  was  maintained  by 
the  English  people  Avith  a  degree  of  ardour  which  went  en- 
tirely to  the  profit  of  royalty.  The  people,  already  remark- 
able for  the  prudence  and  determination  with  which  they 
defended  their  resources  and  treasures,  surrendered  them 
at  that  period  to  their  monarchs,  without  foresight  or  mea- 
sure. It  was  in  the  reign  of  Henry  V.  that  a  considerable 
tax,  consisting  of  custom-house  duties,  was  granted  to  the 
king  for  his  lifetime,  almost  at  the  beginning  of  his  reign. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  265 

The  foreign  war  was  scarcely  ended,  M'hen  the  civil  war, 
which  had  already  broken  out,  was  carried  on  ;  the  houses 
of  York  and  Lancaster  disputed  the  throne.  When  at  length 
these  sanguinary  struggles  were  brought  to  an  end,  the 
English  nobility  were  ruined,  diminished  in  number,  and 
no  longer  able  to  preserve  the  power  which  they  had  pre- 
viously exercised.  The  coalition  of  the  great  barons 
was  no  longer  able  to  govern  the  throne.  The  Tudors  as- 
cended it ;  and  Vv^ith  Henry  VII.,  in  1485,  begins  the  era 
of  political  centralization,  the  triumph  of  royalty. 

Monarchy  did  not  establish  itself  in  Italy,  at  least  under 
that  name;  but  this  made  little  difference  as  to  the  result. 
It  Avas  in  the  fifteenth  century  that  the  fall  of  the  Italian 
republics  took  place.  Even  where  the  name  was  retained, 
the  power  became  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  one,  or  of 
a  few  families.  The  spirit  of  republicanism  was  extin- 
guished. In  the  north  of  Italy,  almost  all  the  Lombard  re- 
publics merged  in  the  Dutchy  of  Milan.  In  1434,  Florence 
fell  under  the  dominion  of  the  Medicis.  In  1464,  Genoa  be- 
came subject  to  Milan.  The  greater  part  of  the  republics, 
great  and  small,  yielded  to  the  power  of  sovereign  houses  ; 
and  soon  afterwards  began  the  pretensions  of  foreign  sove- 
reigns to  the  dominion  of  the  north  and  south  of  Italy  ; 
to  the  Milanese  and  kingdom  of  Naples. 

Indeed,  to  whatever  country  of  Europe  we  cast  our 
eyes,  whatever  portion  of  its  history  w^e  consider,  whether 
it  relates  to  the  nations  themselves  or  their  governments, 
to  their  territories  or  their  institutions,  we  everywhere 
see  the  old  elements,  the  old  forms  of  society,  disappearing. 
Those  liberties  which  were  founded  on  tradition  were 
lost ;  new  powers  arose,  more  regular  and  concentrated 
than  those  which  previously  existed.  There  is  something 
deeply  melancholy  in  this  view  of  the  fall  of  the  ancient 
liberties  of  Europe.  Even  in  its  own  time  it  inspired  feel- 
ings of  the  utmost  bitterness.     In  France,  in  Germany, 

23 


266  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

and  above  all,  in  Italy,  the  patriots  of  the  fifteenth  century 
resisted  with  ardour,  and  lamented  with  despair,  that  re- 
volution which  everywhere  produced  the  rise  of  what  they 
were  entitled  to  call  despotism.  We  must  admire  their 
courage  and  feel  for  their  sorrow  ;  but  at  the  same  time 
we  must  be  aware  that  this  revolution  was  not  only  inevi- 
table, but  useful.  The  primitive  system  of  Europe — the 
old  feudal  and  municipal  liberties — had  failed  in  the  or- 
ganization of  a  general  society.  Security  and  progress 
are  essential  to  social  existence.  Every  system  which 
does  not  provide  for  present  order,  and  progressive  ad- 
vancement for  the  future,  is  vicious,  and  speedily  aban- 
doned. And  this  was  the  fate  of  the  old  political  forms 
of  society,  of  the  ancient  liberties  of  Europe  in  the  fif- 
teenth century.  They  could  not  give  to  society  either 
security  or  progress.  These  objects  naturally  became 
sought  for  elsewhere  j  to  obtain  them,  recourse  was  had 
to  other  principles  and  other  means  :  and  this  is  the  import 
of  all  the  facts  to  which  I  have  just  called  your  attention. 
To  this  same  period  may  be  assigned  another  circum- 
stance which  has  had  a  great  influence  on  the  political 
history  of  Europe.  It  was  in  the  fifteenth  century  that 
the  relations  of  governments  with  each  other  began  to  be 
frequent,  regular,  and  permanent.  Now,  for  the  first  time, 
became  formed  those  great  combinations  by  means  of  alli- 
ance, for  peaceful  as  well  as  warlike  objects,  which  at  a 
later  period,  gave  rise  to  the  system  of  the  balance  of 
power.  European  diplomacy  originated  in  the  fifteenth 
century.  In  fact  you  may  see,  towards  its  close,  the  prin- 
cipal powers  of  the  continent  of  Europe,  the  Popes,  the 
Dukes  of  Milan,  the  Venetians,  the  German  Emperors, 
and  the  Kings  of  France  and  Spain,  entering  into  a  closer 
correspondence  with  each  other  than  had  hitherto  existed  ; 
negotiating,  combining,  and  balancing  their  various  inter- 
ests.    Thus  at  the  very  time  when  Charles  VIII.  set  on 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  267 

foot  his  expedition  to  conquer  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  a 
great  league  was  formed  against  him,  between  Spain,  the 
Pope,  and  the  Venetians.  The  league  of  Cambray  was 
formed  some  years  later  (in  1508),  against  the  Venetians. 
The  holy  league  directed  against  Louis  XII.  succeeded,  in 
1511,  to  the  league  of  Cambray.  All  these  combinations 
had  their  rise  in  Italian  policy  ;  in  the  desire  of  different 
sovereigns  to  possess  its  territory  ;  and  in  the  fear  lest 
any  of  them,  by  obtaining  an  exclusive  possession,  should 
acquire  an  excessive  preponderance.  This  new  order  of 
thino-s  was  very  favourable  to  the  career  of  monarchy. 
On  the  one  hand  it  belongs  to  the  very  nature  of  the  ex- 
ternal relations  of  states,  that  they  can  be  conducted  only 
by  a  single  person,  or  by  a  very  small  number,  and  that 
they  require  a  certain  degree  of  secrecy :  on  the  other 
hand,  the  people  were  so  little  enlightened  that  the  conse- 
quences of  a  combination  of  this  kind  quite  escaped  them. 
As  it  had  no  direct  bearing  on  their  individual  or  domes- 
tic life,  they  troubled  themselves  little  about  it ;  and,  as 
usual,  left  such  transactions  to  the  discretion  of  the  cen- 
tral government.  Thus  diplomacy,  in  its  very  birth,  fell 
into  the  hands  of  kings ;  and  the  opinion,  that  it  belongs 
to  them  exclusively  ;  that  the  nation,  even  when  free,  and 
possessed  of  the  right  of  voting  its  own  taxes,  and  inter- 
fering in  the  management  of  its  domestic  affairs,  has  no 
right  to  intermeddle  in  foreign  matters  ;^— -this  opinion,  I 
say,  became  established  in  all  parts  of  Europe,  as  a  settled 
principle,  a  maxim  of  common  law.  Look  into  the  his- 
tory of  England  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centu- 
ries ;  and  you  will  observe  the  great  influence  of  that 
opinion,  and  the  obstacles  it  presented  to  the  liberties  of 
England  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth,  James  I.,  and  Charles 
I.  It  is  always  under  the  sanction  of  the  principle,  that 
peace  and  war,  commercial  relations,  and  all  foreign  af- 
fairs, belong  to  the  royal  prerogative,  that  absolute  power 


268  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

defends  itself  against  the  rights  of  the  country.  The 
people  are  remarkably  timid  in  disputing  this  portion  of 
the  prerogative  ;  and  their  timidity  has  cost  them  the 
dearer,  for  this  reason,  that,  from  the  commencement  of 
the  period  into  which  we  are  now  entering  (that  is  to  say, 
the  sixteenth  century),  the  history  of  Europe  is  essen- 
tially diplomatic.  For  nearly  three  centuries,  foreign  rela- 
tions form  the  most  important  part  of  history.  The  do- 
mestic affairs  of  countries  began  to  be  regularly  con- 
ducted ;  the  internal  government,  on  the  Continent  at 
least,  no  longer  produced  any  violent  convulsions,  and  no 
longer  kept  the  public  mind  in  a  state  of  agitation  and 
excitement.  Foreign  relations,  wars,  treaties,  alliances, 
alone  occupy  the  attention  and  fill  the  page  of  history ; 
so  that  we  find  the  destinies  of  nations  abandoned  in  a 
great  measure  to  the  royal  prerogative,  to  the  central 
power  of  the  state. 

It  could  scarcely  have  happened  otherwise.  Civiliza- 
tion must  have  made  great  progress,  intelligence  and  po- 
litical habits  must  be  widely  diffused,  before  the  public 
can  interfere  with  advantage,  in  matters  of  this  kind. 
From  the  sixteenth  to  the  eighteenth  century,  the  people 
were  far  from  being  sufficiently  advanced  to  do  so.  Ob- 
serve what  occurred  in  England,  under  James  I  ,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century.  His  son-in-law,  the 
Elector  Palatine,  who  had  been  elected  king  of  Bohemia, 
had  lost  his  crown,  and  had  even  been  stripped  of.  his  he- 
reditary dominions,  the  Palatinate.  Protestantism  every- 
where espoused  his  cause  ;  and,  on  this  ground,  England 
took  a  warm  interest  in  it.  There  was  a  great  manifesta- 
tion of  public  opinion  in  order  to  force  James  to  take  the 
part  of  his  son-in-law,  and  obtain  for  him  the  restoration 
of  the  Palatinate.  Parliament  insisted  violently  for  war, 
promising  ample  means  to  carry  it  on.  James  was  indif- 
ferent on  the  subject;  he  made  several  attempts  to  nego- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  269 

tiate,  and  sent  some  troops  to  Germany  ;  he  then  told 
parliament  that  he  required  £900,000  sterling-,  to  carry- 
on  the  war  with  any  chance  of  success.  It  is  not  said,  and 
indeed  it  does  not  appear,  that  his  estimate  was  exagge- 
rated. But  parliament  shrunk  back  with  astonishment  and 
terror  at  the  sound  of  such  a  sum,  and  could  hardly  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  vote  j£70,000  sterling,  to  reinstate  a  prince, 
and  re-conquer  a  country  three  hundred  leagues  distant 
from  England.  Such  were  the  ignorance  and  political 
incapacity  of  the  public  in  affairs  of  this  nature  ;  they 
acted  without  any  knowledge  of  facts,  or  any  considera- 
tion of  consequences.  How  then  could  they  be  capable 
of  interfering  in  a  regular  and  effectual  manner  1  This 
is  the  cause  which  principally  contributed  to  make  foreign 
relations  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  central  power  ;  no  other 
was  in  a  condition  to  conduct  them,  I  shall  not  say  for 
the  public  benefit,  which  was  very  far  from  being  always 
consulted,  but  with  any  thing  like  consistency  and  good 
sense. 

It  may  be  seen,  then,  that  in  whatever  point  of  view  we 
regard  the  political  history  of  Europe  at  this  period — ■ 
whether  we  look  upon  the  internal  condition  of  different 
nations,  or  upon  their  relation  with  each  other — whether 
we  consider  the  means  of  warfare,  the  administration  of 
justice,  or  the  levying  of  taxes,  we  find  them  pervaded  by 
the  sam«  character  ;  we  see  everywhere  the  same  ten- 
dency to  centralization,  to  unity,  to  the  formation  and 
preponderance  of  general  interests  and  public  powers. 
This  was  the  hidden  working  of  the  fifteenth  century,' 
which,  at  the  period  we  are  speaking  of,  had  not  yet  pro- 
duced any  very  apparent  result,  or  any  actual  revolution 
in  society,  but  was  preparing  all  those  consequences 
which  afterwards  took  place.  I  shall  now  bring  before 
you  a  class  of  facts  of  a  different  nature ;  moral  facts, 
such  as  stand  in  relation  to  the  development  of  the  human 
23* 


270  GENERAJL    HISTORY    OF 

mind  and  the  formation  of  general  ideas.  In  these  again 
Ave  shall  discover  the  same  phenomena,  and  arrive  at  the 
same  result. 

I  shall  begin  with  an  order  of  facts  which  has  often 
engaged  our  attention,  and  under  the  most  various  forms, 
has  always  held  an  important  place  in  the  history  of  Eu- 
rope— the  facts  relative  to  the  Church.  Down  to  the  fif- 
teenth century,  the  only  general  ideas  which  had  a  pow- 
erful influence  on  the  masses  were  those  connected  with 
religion.  The  Church  alone  was  invested  with  the  power 
of  regulating,  promulgating,  and  prescribing  them.  At- 
tempts, it  is  true,  at  independence,  and  even  at  separation, 
were  frequently  made ;  and  the  Church  had  much  to  do 
to  overcome  them.  Down  to  this  period,  however,  she 
had  been  successful.  Creeds  rejected  by  the  Church  had 
never  taken  any  general  or  permanent  hold  on  the  minds 
of  the  people  :  even  the  Albigenses  had  been  repressed. 
Dissension  and  strife  were  incessant  in  the  Church,  but 
without  any  decisive  and  striking  result.  The  fifteenth 
century  opened  with  the  appearance  of  a  different  state 
of  things.  New  ideas,  and  a  public  and  avowed  desire  of 
change  and  reformation,  began  to  agitate  the  Church  her- 
self. The  end  of  the  fourteenth  and  beginning  of  the 
fifteenth  century  were  marked  by  the  great  schism  of  the 
west,  resulting  from  the  removal  of  the  papal  chair  to 
Avignon,  and  the  creation  of  two  popes,  one  at  Avignon, 
and  the  other  at  Rome,  The  contest  between  these  two  pa- 
pacies is  what  is  called  the  great  schism  of  the  west.  It 
began  in  1378.  In  1409,  the  Council  of  Pisa  endeavoured 
to  put  an  end  to  it  by  deposing  the  two  rival  popes  and 
electing  another.  But,  instead  of  ending  the  schism,  this 
step  only  rendered  it  more  violent. 

There  were  now  three  popes  instead  of  two ;  and  dis- 
orders and  abuses  went  on  increasing.  In  1414,  the 
Council  of  Constance  assembled,  convoked  by  desire  of 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  271 

the  Emperor  Sigismund.  This  Council  set  about  a  matter 
of  far  more  importance  than  the  nomination  of  a  new  pope  ; 
it  undertook  the  reformation  of  the  Church.  It  began  by 
proclaiming  the  indissolubility  of  the  universal  council, 
and  its  superiority  over  the  papal  power.  It  endeavoured 
to  establish  these  principles  in  the  Church,  and  to  reform 
the  abuses  which  had  crept  into  it,  particularly  the  exac- 
tions by  which  the  court  of  Rome  obtained  money.  To 
accomplish  this  object  the  council  appointed  what  we 
should  call  a  commission  of  inquiry,  in  other  words,  a 
Reform  College^  composed  of  deputies  to  the  council, 
chosen  in  the  different  Christian  nations.  This  college 
was  directed  to  inquire  into  the  abuses  which  polluted  the 
Church,  and  into  the  means  of  remedying  them,  and  to 
make  a  report  to  the  council,  in  order  that  it  might  deli- 
berate on  the  proceedings  to  be  adopted.  But  while  the 
council  was  thus  engaged,  the  question  was  started,  whe- 
ther it  could  proceed  to  the  reform  of  abuses  without  the 
visible  concurrence  of  the  head  of  the  Church,  without 
the  sanction  of  the  pope.  It  was  carried  in  the  negative 
through  the  influence  of  the  Roman  party,  supported  by 
some  well-m.eaning  but  timid  individuals.  The  council 
elected  a  new  pope,  Martin  V.,  in  1417.  The  pope  was 
instructed  to  present,  on  his  part,  a  plan  for  the  reform  of 
the  Church.  This  plan  was  rejected,  and  the  council  sepa- 
rated. In  1431,  a  new  council  assembled  at  Bale,  with 
the  same  design.  It  resumed  and  continued  the  reform- 
ing labours  of  the  Council  of  Constance,  but  with  no  better 
success.  Schism  broke  out  in  this  assembly  as  it  had 
done  in  Christendom.  The  pope  removed  the  council  to 
Ferrara,  and  afterwards  to  Florence.  A  portion  of  the 
prelates  refused  to  obey  the  pope,  and  remained  at  Bale  ; 
and,  as  there  had  been  formerly  two  popes,  so  now  there 
were  two  councils.  That  of  Bale  continued  its  projects  of 
reform ;  named  as   its  pope,  Felix  V.  j  some  time  after- 


272  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

wards  removed  to  Lausanne  j  and  dissolved  itself  in  1'4<49, 
without  having  effected  any  thing. 

In  this  manner  papacy  gained  the  day,  remained  in  pos- 
session of  the  field  of  battle,  and  of  the  government  of  the 
Church.  The  council  could  not  accomplish  that  which 
it  had  set  about ;  but  it  did  something  else  which  it  had 
not  thought  of,  and  which  survived  its  dissolution.  Just 
at  the  time  the  Council  of  Bale  failed  in  its  attempts  at 
reform,  sovereigns  were  adopting  the  ideas  which  it  had 
proclaimed,  and  some  of  the  institutions  which  it  had  sug- 
gested. In  France,  and  with  the  decrees  of  the  Council 
of  Bale,  Charles  VII.  formed  the  pragmatic  sanction, 
which  he  proclaimed  at  Bourges  in  1438  ;  it  authorized 
the  election  of  bishops,  the  suppression  of  annates,  (or 
first-fruits,)  and  the  reform  of  the  principal  abuses  intro-- 
duced  into  the  Church.  The  pragmatic  sanction  was  de-. 
clared  in  France  to  be  a  law  of  the  state.  In  Germany, 
the  Diet  of  Mayence  adopted  it  in  1439,  and  also  made  it 
a  law  of  the  German  empire.  What  spiritual  power  had 
tried  without  success,  temporal  power  seemed  determined 
to  accomplish. 

But  the  projects  of  the  reformers  met  with  a  new  re- 
verse of  fortune.  As  the  council  had  failed,  so  did  the 
pragmatic  sanction.  It  perished  very  soon  in  Germany. 
It  was  abandoned  by  the  Diet  in  1448,  in  virtue  of  a  nego- 
tiation with  Nicholas  V.  In  1516,  Francis  I.  abandoned 
it  also,  substituting  for  it  his  concordat  with  Leo  X.  The 
reform  attempted  by  princes  did  not  succeed  better  than 
that  set  on  foot  by  the  clergy.  But  we  must  not  conclude 
that  it  was  entirety  thrown  away.  In  like  manner  as  the 
council  had  done  things  which  survived  it,  so  the  prag- 
matic sanction  had  effects  which  survived  it  also,  and  will 
be  found  to  make  an  important  figure  in  modern  history. 
The  principles  of  the  Council  of  Bale  were  strong  and  fruit- 
ful.   Men  of  superior  minds,  and  of  energetic  characters. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  273 

had  adopted  and  maintained  them.  John  of  Paris,  D'Ailly, 
Gerson,and  many  distinguished  men  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, had  devoted  themselves  to  their  defence.  It  was  in 
vain  that  the  council  was  dissolved  ;  it  was  in  vain  that  the 
pragmatic  sanction  was  abandoned;  their  general  doctrines 
respecting  the  government  of  the  Church,  and  the  reforms 
which  were  necessary,  took  root  in  France.  They  were 
spread  abroad,  found  their  way  into  parliaments,  took  a 
strong  hold  of  the  public  mind,  and  gave  birth  first  to  the 
Jansenists,  and  then  to  the  Gallicans.  This  entire  series 
of  maxims  and  efforts  tending  to  the  reform  of  the  Church, 
which  began  with  the  Council  of  Constance,  and  termina- 
ted in  the  four  propositions  of  Bossuet,  emanated  from  the 
same  source,  and  was  directed  to  the  same  object.  It  is 
the  same  fact  which  has  undergone  successive  transforma- 
tions. Notwithstanding  the  failure  of  the  legal  attempts 
at  reform  made  in  the  fifteenth  century,  they  indirectly 
had  an  immense  influence  upon  the  progress  of  civiliza- 
tion ;  and  must  not  be  left  out  of  its  history. 

The  councils  were  right  in  trying  for  a  legal  reform, 
for  it  was  the  only  way  to  prevent  a  revolution.  Nearly 
at  the  time  when  the  Council  of  Pisa  was  endeavouring  to 
put  an  end  to  the  great  western  schism,  and  the  Council 
of  Constance  to  reform  the  Church,  the  first  attempts  at 
popular  religious  reform  broke  out  in  Bohemia.  The 
preaching  of  John  Huss,  and  his  progress  as  a  reformer, 
commenced  in  1404,  when  he  began  to  teach  at  Prague. 
Here,  then,  we  have  two  reforms  going  on  side  by  side  ; 
the  one  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  Church, — attempted  by 
the  ecclesiastical  aristocracy  itself, — cautious,  embar- 
rassed, and  timid ;  the  other  originating  without  the 
Church,  and  directed  against  it, — violent,  passionate,  and 
impetuous.  A  contest  began  between  these  two  powers, 
these  two  parties.  The  council  enticed  John  Huss  and 
Jerome  of  Praofue  to  Constance,  and  condemned  them  to 


274*  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

the  flames  as  heretics  and  revolutionists.  These  events 
are  perfectly  intelligible  to  us  now.  We  can  very  well 
understand  this  simultaneous  existence  of  separate  re- 
forms, one  undertaken  by  governments,  the  other  by  the 
people,  hostile  to  each  other,  yet  springing  from  the  same 
cause,  and  tending  to  the  same  object,  and,  though  op- 
posed to  each  other,  finally  concurring  in  the  same  result. 
This  is  what  happened  in  the  fifteenth  century.  The 
popular  reform  of  John  Huss  was  stifled  for  the  moment ; 
the  war  of  the  Hussites  broke  out  three  or  four  years  af- 
ter the  death  of  their  master  ;  it  was  long  and  violent,  but 
at  last  the  empire  was  successful  in  subduing  it.  The 
failure  of  the  councils  in  the  work  of  reform,  their  not  be- 
ing able  to  attain  the  object  they  were  aiming  at,  only 
kept  the  public  mind  in  a  state  of  fermentation.  The 
spirit  of  reform  still  existed ;  it  waited  but  for  an  oppor- 
tunity again  to  break  out,  and  this  it  found  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  sixteenth  century.  Had  the  reform  under- 
taken by  the  councils  been  brought  to  any  good  issue, 
perhaps  the  popular  reform  would  have  been  prevented. 
But  it  was  impossible  that  one  or  the  other  of  them  should 
not  succeed,  for  their  coincidence  shows  their  necessity. 
Such,  then,  is  the  state,  in  respect  to  religious  creeds, 
in  which  Europe  was  left  by  the  fifteenth  century:  an 
aristocratic  reform  attempted  without  success,  with  a  pop- 
ular suppressed  reform  begun,  but  still  ready  to  break  out 
anew.  It  was  not  solely  to  religious  creeds  that  the  human 
mind  was  directed,  and  busied  itself  about  at  this  period. 
It  was  in  the  course  of  the  fourteenth  century,  as  you  all 
know,  that  Greek  and  Roman  antiquity  was  (if  I  may  use 
the  expression)  restored  to  Europe.  You  know  with  what 
ardour  Dante,  Petrarch,  Boccacio,  and  all  their  contem- 
poraries, sought  for  Greek  and  Latin  manuscripts,  pub- 
lished them,  and  spread  them  abroad  ;  and  what  general 
joy  was  produced  by  the  smallest  discovery  in  this  branch 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  275 

of  learning.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  excitement  that 
the  classical  school  took  its  rise  ;  a  school  which  has  per- 
formed a  much  more  important  part  in  the  development  of 
the  human  mind  than  has  generally  been  ascribed  to  it. 
But  we  must  be  cautious  of  attaching  to  this  term,  classical 
school,  the  meaning  given  to  it  at  present.  It  had  to  do, 
in  those  days,  with  matters  very  different  from  literary 
systems  and  disputes.  The  classical  school  of  that  period 
inspired  its  disciples  with  admiration,  not  only  for  the 
writings  of  Virgil  and  Homer,  but  for  the  entire  frame  of 
ancient  society,  for  its  institutions,  its  opinions,  its  phi- 
losophy, as  vrell  as  its  literature.  Antiquity,  it  must  be 
allowed,  whether  as  regards  politics,  philosophy  or  liter- 
ature, was  greatly  superior  to  the  Europe  of  the  fourteenth 
and  fifteenth  centuries.  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore, 
that  it  should  have  exercised  so  great  an  influence  ;  that 
lofty,  vigorous,  elegant,  and  fastidious  minds  should  have 
been  disgusted  with  thQ  coarse  manners,  the  confused 
ideas,  the  barbarous  modes  of  their  own  time,  and  should 
have  devoted  themselves  with  enthusiasm,  and  almost 
with  veneration,  to  the  study  of  a  state  of  society,  at  once 
more  regular  and  more  perfect  than  their  own.  Thus  was 
formed  that  school  of  bold  thinkers  which  appeared  at  the 
commencement  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  in  which 
prelates,  jurists,  and  men  of  learning  were  united  by  com- 
mon sentiments  and  common  pursuits. 

In  the  midst  of  this  movement  happened  the  taking  of 
Constantinople  by  the  Turks,  the  fall  of  the  Eastern  em- 
pire, and  the  influx  of  the  fugitive  Greeks  into  Italy. 
These  brought  with  them  a  greater  knowledge  of  anti- 
quity, numerous  manuscripts,  and  a  thousand  new  means 
of  studying  the  civilization  of  the  ancients.  You  may 
easily  imagine  how  this  must  have  redoubled  the  admira- 
tion and  ardour  of  the  classic  school.  This  was  the  most 
brilliant  period  of  the  Church,  especially  in  Italy,  not  in 


^76  GEiNERAL    HISTORY    OF 

respect  of  political  power,  but  of  wealth  and  luxury.  The 
Church  gave  herself  up  to  all  the  pleasures  of  an  indolent, 
elegant,  licentious  civilization ;  to  a  taste  for  letters,  the 
arts,  and  social  and  physical  enjoyments.  Look  at  the 
way  in  which  the  men  who  played  the  greatest  political 
and  literary  parts  at  that  period  passed  their  lives  ;  Cardi- 
nal Bembo,  for  example ;  and  you  will  be  surprised  by  the 
mixture  which  it  exhibits  of  luxurious  effeminacy  and  in- 
tellectual culture,  of  enervated  manners  and  mental  vigour. 
In  surveying  this  period,  indeed,  when  we  look  at  the 
state  of  opinions  and  of  social  relations,  we  might  imagine 
ourselves  living  among  the  French  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. There  was  the  same  desire  for  the  progress  of  in- 
telligence, and  for  the  acquirement  of  new  ideas  ;  the 
same  taste  for  an  agreeable  and  easy  life,  the  same  lux- 
ury, the  same  licentiousness  5  there  was  the  same  want  of 
political  energy  and  of  moral  principles,  combined  with 
singular  sincerity  and  activity  of  mind.  The  literati  of  the 
fifteenth  century  stood  in  the  same  relation  to  the  prelates 
of  the  Church  as  the  men  of  letters  and  philosophers  of 
the  eighteenth  did  to  the  nobility.  They  had  the  same 
opinions  and  manners,  lived  agreeably  together,  and  gave 
themselves  no  uneasiness  about  the  storms  that  were  brew- 
ing round  them.  The  prelates  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
Cardinal  Bembo  among  the  rest,  no  more  foresaw  Luther 
and  Calvin  than  the  courtiers  of  Louis  XIV.  foresaw  the 
French  revolution.  The  analogy  between  the  two  cases 
is  striking  and  instructive. 

We  observe,  then,  three  great  facts  in  the  moral  order 
of  society  at  this  period  ;  on  one  hand,  an  ecclesiastical 
reform  attempted  by  the  Church  itself ;  on  another  a  pop- 
ular, religious  reform  ;  and  lastly,  an  intellectual  revolu- 
tion^ which  formed  a  school  of  free-thinkers  j  and  all  these 
transformations  were  prepared  in  the  midst  of  the  great- 
est political  change  that  has  ever  taken  place  in  Europe, 


CIVILIZATION   IN   MODERN    EUROPE.  277 

in  the  midst  of  the  process  of  the   centralization  of  na- 
tions and  governments. 

But  this  is  not  aU.  The  period  in  question  was  also 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  for  the  display  of  physical 
activity  among  men.  It  was  a  period  of  voyages,  travels, 
enterprises,  discoveries  and  inventions  of  every  kind.  It 
was  the  time  of  the  great  Portuguese  expeditions  along 
the  coast  of  Africa  ;  of  the  discovery  of  the  new  passage 
to  India  by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  by  Vasco  de  Gama  ; 
of  the  discovery  of  America,  by  Christopher  Columbus; 
of  the  wonderful  extension  of  European  commerce.  A 
thousand  new  inventions  started  up;  others  already 
known,  but  confined  within  a  narrow  sphere,  became  pop- 
ular and  in  general  use.  Gunpowder  changed  the  sys- 
tem of  war ;  the  compass  changed  the  system  of  naviga- 
tion. Painting  in  oil  was  invented,  and  filled  Europe  with 
masterpieces  of  art.  Engraving  on  copper,  invented  in 
14?06,  multiplied  and  diffused  them.  Paper  made  of  linen 
became  common.  Finally,  between  1436  and  1452,  was 
invented  printing ; — printing,  the  theme  of  so  many  de- 
clamations and  common-places,  but  to  whose  merits  and 
effect  no  common-places  or  declamations  will  ever  be 
able  to  do  justice. 

From  all  this,  some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  great- 
ness and  activity  of  the  fifteenth  century;  a  greatness 
which,  at  the  time,  was  not  very  apparent ;  an  activity  of 
which  the  results  did  not  immediately  take  place.  Vio- 
lent reforms  seemed  to  fail ;  governments  acquired  stabil- 
ity. It  might  have  been  supposed  that  society  w^as  now 
about  to»  enjoy  the  benefits  of  better  order,  and  more  rapid 
progress.  The  mighty  revolutions  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury were  at  hand ;  the  fifteenth  century  prepared  them. 
— They  shall  be  the  subject  of  the  following  lecture. 

24 


278  GENERAL   HISTORY    OP 


LECTURE    XII. 

THE       REFORBIATION. 

I  HAVE  often  referred  to  and  lamented  the  disorder,  the 
chaatic  situation  of  European  society  ;  I  have  complained 
of  the  difficulty  of  comprehending  and  describing  a  state 
of  society  so  loose,  so  scattered,  and  incoherent;  and  I 
have  keptyouwaitingwith  impatience  forthe  period  of  gen- 
eral interests,  order,  and  social  union.  This  period  we  have 
now  reached  ;  but,  in  treating  of  it,  we  encounter  a  diffi- 
culty of  another  kind.  Hitherto,  we  have  found  it  difficult 
to  connect  historical  facts  one  with  another,  to  class  them 
together,  to  seize  their  common  features,  to  discover  their 
points  of  resemblance.  The  case  is  different  in  modern 
Europe  ;  all  the  elements,  all  the  incidents  of  social  life 
modify,  act  and  re-act  upon  each  other  ;  the  mutual  rela- 
tions of  men  are  much  more  numerous  and  complicated  ; 
so  also  are  their  relations  with  the  government  and  the 
state,  the  relations  of  states  with  each  other,  and  all  the 
ideas  and  operations  of  the  human  mind.  In  the  periods 
through  which  we  have  already  travelled,  we  have  found  a 
great  number  of  facts  which  were  insulated,  foreign  to 
each  other,  and  without  any  reciprocal  influence.  From 
this  time,  however,  we  find  nothing  insulated  ;  all  things 
press  upon  one  another,  and  become  modified  and  changed 
by  their  mutr.al  contact  and  friction.  What,  let  .me  ask, 
can  be  more  difficult  than  to  seize  the  real  point  of  unity 
in  the  midst  of  such  diversity,  to  determine  the  direction 
of  such  a  widely  spread  and  complicated  movement,  to 
sum  up  this  prodigious  number  of  various  and  closely  con- 
nected elements,  to  point  out  at  last  the  general  and  lead- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  279 

ing  fact  which  is  the  sum  of  a  long  series  of  facts  ;  which 
characterizes  an  era,  and  is  the  true  expression  of  its 
influence,  and  of  the  part  it  has  performed  in  the  history 
of  civilization!  You  will  be  able  to  measure  at  a  glance 
the  extent  of  this  difficulty,  in  the  great  event  which  is 
now  to  engage  our  attention. 

In  the  twelfth  century  we  met  with  an  event  which  was 
religious  in  its  origin,  if  not  in  its  nature  j  I  mean  the 
Crusades.  Notwithstanding  the  greatness  of  this  event, 
its  long  duration,  and  the  variety  of  incidents  which  it 
brought  about,  it  was  easy  enough  for  us  to  discover  its 
general  character,  and  to  determine  its  influence  with  some 
degree  of  precision.  We  have  now  to  consider  the  reli- 
gious revolution  of  the  sixteenth  century,  which  is  com- 
monly called  THE  Reformation.  Let  me  be  permitted  to 
say  in  passing,  that  I  shall  use  this  word  reformation  as  a 
simple,  ordinary  term,  synonymous  with  religious  revo- 
lution^ and  without  attaching  it  to  any  opinion.  You  must, 
I  am  sure,  foresee  at  once,  how  difficult  it  is  to  discover 
the  real  character  of  this  great  crisis,  and  to  explain  in  a 
general  manner  what  has  been  its  nature  and  its  eflects. 

The  period  of  our  inquiry  must  extend  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  sixteenth  to  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury ;  for  this  period  embraces,  so  to  speak,  the  life  of 
this  event  from  its  birth  to  its  termination.  All  historical 
events  have  in  some  sort  a  determinate  career.  Their 
consequences  are  prolonged  to  infinity ;  they  are  con- 
nected with  all  the  past  and  ail  the  future  ;  but  it  is  not 
the  less  true,  on  this  account,  that  they  have  a  definite 
and  limited  existence ;  that  they  have  their  origin  and 
their  increase,  occupy  with  their  development  a  certain 
portion  of  time,  and  then  diminish  and  disappear  from  the 
scene,  to  make  way  for  some  new  event  which  runs  a 
similar  course. 

The  precise  date  which  may  be  assigned  to  the  Reforma- 


280  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

tion  is  not  of  much  importance.  We  may  take  the  year 
1520,  when  Luther  publicly  burnt  at  Wittemberg  the  bull 
of  Leo  X.,  containing  his  condemnation,  and  thus  formally 
separatedhimself  from  the  Romish  Church.  The  interval 
between  this  period  and  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  the  year  1648,  when  the  treaty  of  Westphalia  was 
concluded,  comprehends  the  life  of  the  Reformation.  That 
this  is  the  case,  maybe  thus  proved.  The  first  and  great- 
est effect  of  the  religious  revolution  was  to  create  in  Eu- 
rope two  classes  of  states,  the  Catholic  and  the  Protestant, 
to  set  them  against  each  other  and  force  them  into  hostili- 
ties. With  many  vicissitudes,  the  struggle  between  these 
two  parties  lasted  from  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century  to  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth.  It  vv^as  by  the 
treaty  of  Westphalia,  in  1648,  that  the  Catholic  and  Pro- 
testant states  reciprocally  acknowledged  each  other,  and 
engaged  to  live  in  amity  and  peace,  without  regard  to 
difTerence  of  religion.  After  this,  from  1648,  difierence 
of  religion  ceased  to  be  the  leading  principle  of  the  clas- 
sification of  states,  of  their  external  policy,  their  relations 
and  alliances.  Down  to  that  time,  notwithstanding  great 
variations,  Europe  was  essentiallj^  divided  into  a  Catholic 
league  and  a  Protestant  league.  After  the  treaty  of  West- 
phalia this  distinction  disappeared  ;  and  alliances  or  divi- 
sions among  states  took  place  from  considerations  alto- 
gether foreign  to  religious  belief.  At  this  point,  therefore, 
the  preponderance,  or,  in  other  words,  the  career  of  the 
Reformation  came  to  an  end,  although  its  consequences, 
instead  of  decreasing,  continued  to  develop  themselves. 

Let  us  now  take  a  rapid  survey  of  this  career,  and 
merely  mentioning  names  and  events,  point  out  its  course. 
You  will  see  from  this  simple  indication,  from  this  dry  and 
incomplete  outline,  what  must  be  the  difficulty  of  summing 
up  a  series  of  such  various  and  complicated  facts  into  one 
general  fact ;  of  determining  what  is  the  true  character  of 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  281 

the  religious  revolution  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  of 
assigning  to  it  its  true  part  in  the  history  of  civilization. 

The  moment  in  which  the  Reformation  broke  out  is  re- 
markable for  its  political  im.portance.  It  was  in  the  midst 
of  the  great  strup;gle  between  Francis  and  Charles  V.— 
between  France  and  Spain  ;  a  struggle,  at  first  for  the  pos- 
session of  Italy,  but  afterwards  for  the  German  empire, 
and  finally  for  preponderance  in  Europe.  It  was  the  mo- 
ment in  which  the  house  of  Austria  elevated  itself  and 
became  predominant  in  Europe.  It  was  also  the  moment 
in  which  England,  through  Henry  VIII- ,  interfered  in  con- 
tinental politics,  more  regularly,  permanently  and  exten- 
sively than  she  had  ever  done  before. 

If  we  follow  the  course  of  the  sixteenth  century  in 
France,  w^e  shall  find  it  entirely  occupied  by  the  great  re- 
ligious wars  between  Protestants  and  Catholics  ;  wars 
which  became  the  means  and  the  occasion  of  a  new 
attempt  of  the  great  nobles  to  repossess  themselves  of  the 
power  which  they  had  lost,  and  to  obtain  an  ascendency 
over  the  sovereign.  This  was  the  political  meaning  of 
the  religious  wars  of  France,  of  the  League,  of  the  strug- 
gle between  the  houses  of  Guise  and  Valois, — a  struggle 
which  was  put  an  end  to  by  the  accession  of  Henry  IV. 

In  Spain,  the  revolution  of  the  United  Provinces  broke 
out  about  the  middle  of  the  reign  of  Philip  II.  The  inqui- 
sition on  one  hand,  and  civil  and  religious  liberty  on  the 
other,  made  these  provinces  the  theatre  of  war  under  the 
names  of  the  Duke  of  Alva  and  the  Prince  of  Orange. 
Perseverance  and  prudence  secured  the  triumph  of  liberty 
in  Holland,  but  it  perished  in  Spain,  where  absolute  pow- 
er, ecclesiastical  and  civil,  reigned  without  control. 

In  England,  the  circumstances  to  be  noted  are,  the 
reigns  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth ;  the  struggle  of  Elizabeth, 
as  head  of  the  Protestant  interests,  against  Philip  II.  j 
the  accession  of  James  Stuart  to  the  throne  of  England ; 

24.* 


282  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

and  the  rise  of  the  great  dispute  between  the  monarchy 
and  the  people. 

About  the  same  time  we  note  the  creation  of  new  pow- 
ers in  the  north.  Sweden  w^as  raised  into  existence  by 
Gustavus  Vasa,  in  1523.  Prussia  was  created  by  the  sec- 
ularization of  the  Teutonic  order.  The  northern  powers 
assumed  a  place  in  the  politics  of  Europe  which  they  had 
not  occupied  before,  and  the  importance  of  which  soon 
afterwards  showed  itself  in  the  thirty  years'  war. 

I  now  come  back  to  France,  to  note  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIII.  ;  the  change  in  the  internal  administration  of  this 
country  effected  by  Cardinal  Kichelieu  ;  the  relations  of 
France  with  Germany,  and  the  support  which  she  afforded 
to  the  Protestant  party.  In  Germany,  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  there  was  the  war  with  the 
Turks;  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  the  thirty 
years'  war,  the  greatest  of  modern  events  in  eastern  Eu- 
rope ;  Gustavus  Adolphus,  Wallenstein,  Tilly,  the  Duke 
of  Brunswick,  the  Duke  of  Weimar,  are  the  greatest 
names  which  Germany  at  this  time  could  boast  of. 

At  the  same  period,  in  France,  took  place  the  accession 
of  Louis  XIV.  and  the  commencement  of  the  Fronde  ;  in 
England  broke  out  the  great  revolution,  or,  as  it  is 
sometimes  improperly  called,  the  grand  rebellion,  which 
dethroned  Charles  I. 

In  this  survey,  I  have  only  glanced  at  the  most  promi- 
nent events  of  history,  events  which  every  body  has  heard 
of;  you  see  their  number,  their  variety,  their  importance. 
If  we  seek  for  events  of  another  kind,  events  less  con- 
spicuous and  less  distinguished  by  great  names,  we  shaU 
find  them  not  less  abundant  during  this  period  ; — a  period 
remarkable  for  the  great  changes  which  took  place  in  the 
political  institutions  of  almost  every  country  ;  the  period 
in  which  pure  monarchy  prevailed  in  most  of  the  great 
states,  while  in  Holland  there  arose  the   most  powerful 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  283 

republic  in  Europe ;  and  in  England  constitutional  mon- 
archy achieved,  or  nearly  achieved,  a  final  triumph. 
Then,  in  the  Church,  it  was  during  this  period  that  the 
old  monastic  orders  lost  almost  all  their  political  power, 
and  were  replaced  by  a  new  order  of  a  different  character, 
and  whose  importance,  erroneously  perhaps,  is  considered 
much  superior  to  that  of  its  precursors, — I  mean  the  Je- 
suits. At  the  same  period  the  Council  of  Trent  oblite- 
rated all  that  remained  of  the  influence  of  the  Councils  of 
Constance  and  Bale,  and  secured  the  definitive  ascenden- 
cy of  the  court  of  Rome  in  ecclesiastical  affairs.  Leaving 
the  Church,  and  taking  a  passing  glance  at  the  philosophy 
of  the  age,  at  the  unfettered  career  of  the  human  mind, 
we  observe  two  men.  Bacon  and  Descartes,  the  authors 
of  the  greatest  philosophical  revolution  which  the  modern 
world  has  undergone,  the  chiefs  of  the  two  schools  which 
contended  for  supremacj'.  It  was  in  this  period  too  that 
Italian  literature  shone  forth  in  its  fullest  splendour,  while 
that  of  France  and  England  w^as  still  in  its  infancy.  Last- 
ly, it  w^as  in  this  period  that  the  colonial  system  of  Europe 
had  its  origin;  that  great  colonies  were  founded;  and 
that  commercial  activity  and  enterprise  were  carried  to 
an  extent  never  before  known. 

Thus,  under  whatever  point  of  view  we  consider  this 
era,  we  find  its  political,  ecclesiastical,  philosophical,  and 
literary  events,  more  numerous,  varied,  and  important, 
than  in  any  of  the  preceding  ages.  The  activity  of  the 
human  mind  displayed  itself  in  every  way  ;  in  the  relations 
of  men  with  each  other — in  their  relations  with  the  govern- 
ing powers — in  the  relations  of  states,  and  in  the  intellect- 
ual labours  of  individuals.  In  short,  it  was  the  age  of  great 
men  and  of  great  things.  Yet,  among  the  great  events  of 
this  period,  the  religious  revolution  wdiich  now  engages 
our  attention  was  the  greatest.  It  was  the  leading  fact  of 
the  period;  the  fact  which  gives  it  its  name,    and   deter- 


284?  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

mines  its  character.  Among  the  many  powerful  causes 
which  have  produced  so  many  powerful  effects,  the  Refor- 
mation was  the  most  powerful ;  it  was  that  to  which  all 
the  others  contributed  5  that  which  has  modified,  or  been 
modified,  by  all  the  rest.  The  task  which  we  have  now 
to  perform,  then,  is  to  review,  with  precision,  this  event  ; 
to  examine  this  cause,  which,  in  a  period  of  the  greatest 
causes,  produced  the  greatest  efi^ects — this  event,  which, 
in  this  period  of  great  events,  prevailed  over  all  the  rest. 
You  must,  at  once,  perceive  how  difficult  it  is  to  link 
together  facts  so  diversified,  so  immense,  and  so  closely 
connected,  into  one  great  historical  unity.  It  must,  how- 
ever, be  done  ;  when  events  are  once  consummated,  when 
they  have  become  matter  of  history,  the  most  important 
business  is  then  to  be  attempted  ;  that  which  man  most 
seeks  for  are  general  facts — the  linking  together  of  causes 
and  effects.  This  is  what  I  may  call  the  immortal  portion 
of  history,  which  all  generations  must  study,  in  order  to 
understand  the  past  as  well  as  the  present  time.  This 
desire  after  generalization,  of  obtaining  rational  results,  is 
the  most  powerful  and  noblest  of  all  our  intellectual  de- 
sires ;  but  we  must  beware  of  being  satisfied  with  hasty 
and  incomplete  generalizations.  No  pleasure  is  more  se- 
ducing than  that  of  indulging  ourselves  in  determining  on 
the  spot,  and  at  first  sight,  the  general  character  and  per- 
manent results  of  an  era  or  an  event.  The  human  intel- 
lect, like  the  human  will,  is  eager  to  be  in  action,  impa- 
tient of  obstacles,  and  desirous  of  coming  to  conclusions. 
It  willingly  forgets  such  facts  as  impede  and  constrain  its 
operations  ;  but,  while  it  forgets,  it  cannot  destroy  them  j 
they  still  live  to  convict  it  of  error  at  some  after  period. 
There  is  only  one  way  of  escaping  this  danger;  it  is 
by  a  resolute  and  dogged  study  of  facts,  till  their  mean- 
ing is  exhausted,  before  attempting  to  generalize,  or 
coming  to  conclusions   respecting   their  efi^ects.     Facts 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  285 

are,  for  the  intellect,  what  the  rules  of  morals  are  for  the 
will.  The  mind  must  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  facts, 
and  must  know  their  weight ;  and  it  is  only  when  she  has 
fulfilled  this  duty — when  she  has  completely  traversed,  in 
every  direction,  the  ground  of  investigation  and  inquiry — 
that  she  is  permitted  to  spread  her  wings,  and  take  her 
flight  towards  that  higher  region,  whence  she  may  survey 
all  things  in  their  general  bearings  and  results.  If  she 
endeavour  to  ascend  prematurely,  without  having  first 
acquired  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  territory  which  she 
desires  to  contemplate  from  above,  she  incurs  the  most 
imminent  risk  of  error  and  downfall.  As,  in  a  calculation 
of  figures,  an  error  at  the  outset  leads  to  others,  ad  infifi- 
itum,  so,  in  history,  if  we  do  not,  in  the  first  instance,  take 
every  fact  into  account — if  we  allow  ourselv  es  to  indulge 
in  a  spirit  of  precipitate  generalization — it  is  impossible  to 
tell  how  far  we  may  be  led  astray  from  the  truth. 

In  these  observations,  I  am,  in  some  measure,  putting 
you  on  your  guard  against  myself.  In  this  course  I  have 
been  able  to  do  little  more  than  make  some  attempts  at 
generalization,  and  take  some  general  views  of  facts  which 
we  had  not  studied  closely  and  together.  Being  now  ar- 
rived at  a  period  where  this  task  is  much  more  difficult, 
and  the  chances  of  error  greater  than  before,  I  think  it 
necessary  to  make  you  aware  of  the  danger,  and  warn  you 
against  my  own  speculations.  Having  done  so,  I  shall 
now  continue  them,  and  treat  the  Reformation  in  the  same 
way  as  I  have  done  other  events.  I  shall  endeavour  to 
discover  its  leading  fact,  to  describe  its  general  character, 
and  to  show  the  part  which  this  great  event  has  performed 
in  the  process  of  European  civilization. 

You  remember  the  situation  in  which  we  left  Europe, 
at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century.  We  saw,  in  the  course 
of  it,  two  great  attempts  at  religious  revolution  or  reform  ; 
an  attempt  at  legal  reform  by  the  councils,  and  an  attempt 


286  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

at  revolutionary  reform,  in  Bohemia,  by  the  Hussites  ;  we 
saw  both  these  stifled  and  rendered  abortive  ',  and  yet  we 
concluded  that  the  event  was  one  which  could  not  be  staved 
off,  but  that  it  must  necessarily  re-appear  in  one  shape 
or  another;  and  that  what  the  fifteenth  century  attempted 
would  be  inevitably  accomplished  by  the  sixteenth.  I 
shall  not  enter  into  any  details  respecting  the  relicrious 
revolution  of  the  sixteenth  century,  which  I  consider  as 
being  generally  known.  I  shall  confine  myself  solely  to 
the  consideration  of  its  general  influence  on  the  destinies 
of  mankind. 

In  the  inquiries  which  have  been  made  into  the  causes 
which  produced  this  great  event,  the  enemies  of  the  Re- 
formation have  imputed  it  to  accidents  and  mischances, 
in  the  course  of  civilization  ;  for  instance,  to  the  sale  of 
indulgences  having  been  intrusted  to  the  Dominicans, 
and  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  Augustines.  Luther  was 
an  Augustine  ;  and  this,  therefore,  was  the  moving  power 
which  put  the  Reformation  in  action.  Others  have  as- 
cribed it  to  the  ambition  of  sovereigns — to  their  rivalry 
with  the  ecclesiastical  power,  andt  o  the  avidity  of  the  lay 
nobility,  who  wished  to  take  possession  of  the  property  of 
the  Church.  In  this  manner  the  Reformation  has  been 
accounted  for,  b}^  looking  at  the  evil  side  of  human  nature 
and  human  affairs;  by  having  recourse  to  the  private  in- 
terests and  selfish  passions  of  individuals. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  friends  and  partisans  of  the  Re- 
formation have  endeavoured  to  account  for  it  by  the  pure 
desire  of  effectually  reforming  the  existing  abuses  of  the 
Church.  They  have  represented  it  as  a  redress  of  reli- 
gious grievances,  as  an  enterprise  conceived  and  executed 
with  the  sole  design  of  re-constituting  the  Church  in 
its  primitive  purity.  Neither  of  these  explanations  appears 
to  me  well  founded.  There  is  more  truth  in  the  latter  than 
in  the  former  ;  at  least,  the  cause  assigned  is  greater,  and  in 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  287 

better  proportion  to  the  extent  and  importance  of  the  event  j 
but,  still,  I  do  not  consider  it  as  correct.  In  my  opinion, 
the  Reformation  neither  was  an  accident,  the  result  of 
some  casual  circumstance,  or  some  personal  interests,  nor 
arose  from  unmingled  views  of  religious  improvement, 
the  fruit  of  Utopian  humanity  and  truth.  It  had  a  more 
powerful  cause  than  all  these  j  a  general  cause,  to  which 
all  the  others  were  subordinate.  It  was  a  vast  effort  made 
by  the  human  mind  to  achieve  its  freedom  j  it  was  a  new- 
born desire  which  it  felt  to  think  and  judge,  freely  and 
independently,  of  facts  and  opinions  which,  till  then,  Eu- 
rope received,  or  was  considered  bound  to  receive,  from 
the  hands  of  authority.  It  was  a  great  endeavour  to 
emancipate  human  reason  ;  and,  to  call  things  by  their 
right  names,  it  was  an  insurrection  of  the  human  mind 
against  the  absolute  power  of  spiritual  order.  Such,  in 
my  opinion,  was  the  true  character  and  leading  principle 
of  the  Reformation. 

When  we  consider  the  state  of  the  human  mind,  at  this 
time,  on  one  hand,  and  the  state  of  the  spiritual  power  of 
the  Church,  which  had  the  government  of  the  human  mind, 
on  the  other,  a  double  fact  presents  itself  to  our  notice. 

In  looking  at  the  human  mind,  we  observe  much  greater 
activity,  and  a  much  greater  desire  to  develop  its  powers, 
than  it  had  ever  felt  before  This  new  activity  was  the 
result  of  various  causes  which  had  been  accumulating  for 
ages.  For  example,  there  were  ages  in  which  heresies 
sprang  up,  subsisted  for  a  time,  and  then  gave  way  to 
others ;  there  were  other  ages  in  which  philosophical 
opinions  ran  just  the  same  course  as  heresies.  The 
labours  of  the  human  mind,  whether  in  the  sphere  of  reli- 
gion or  of  philosophy,  had  been  accumulating  from  the 
eleventh  to  the  sixteenth  century ;  and  the  time  was  now 
come  when  they  must  necessarily  have  a  result.  Besides 
this,  the  means  of  instruction  created  or  favoured  in  the 


288  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

bosom  of  the  Church  itself,  had  brought  forth  fruit. 
Schools  had  been  instituted ;  these  schools  had  produced 
men  of  considerable  knowledge,  and  their  number  had 
daily  increased.  These  men  began  to  wish  to  think  for 
themselves,  for  they  felt  themselves  stronger  than  they 
had  ever  been  before.  At  last  came  that  restoration  of 
the  human  mind  to  a  pristine  youth  and  vigour,  which  the 
revival  of  the  learning  and  arts  of  antiquity  brought  about, 
the  progress  and  effects  of  which  I  have  already  described. 

These  various  causes  combined  gave,  at  the  beginning 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  a  new  and  powerful  impulse  to 
the  human  mind,  an  imperious  desire  to  go  forward. 

The  situation  of  the  spiritual  power,  which  then  had  the 
government  of  the  human  mind,  was  totally  different  j  it, 
on  the  contrary,  had  fallen  into  a  state  of  imbecility,  and 
remained  stationary.  The  political  influence  of  the 
Church  and  Court  of  Rome  was  much  diminished.  Eu- 
ropean society  had  passed  from  the  dominion  of  Rome 
to  that  of  temporal  governments.  Yet  in  spite  of  all 
this,  the  spiritual  power  still  preserved  its  pretensions, 
splendour,  and  outward  importance.  The  same  thing 
happened  to  it  which  has  so  often  happened  to  long 
established  governments.  Most  of  the  complaints  made 
against  it  were  now  almost  groundless.  It  is  not  true, 
that  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  Court  of  Rome  was 
very  tyrannical;  it  is  not  true,  that  its  abuses  were  more 
numerous  and  crying  than  they  had  been  at  former  pe- 
riods. Never,  perhaps,  on  the  contrary,  had  the  govern- 
ment of  the  Church  been  more  indulgent,  more  tolerant, 
more  disposed  to  let  things  take  their  course,  provided 
it  was  not  itself  im.plicated,  provided  that  the  rights  it  had 
hitherto  enjoyed  were  acknowledged  even  though  left 
unexercised,  and  that  it  was  assured  of  its  usual  existence, 
and  received  its  usual  tributes.  It  w^ould  willingly  have 
left  the  human  mind  to  itself,  if  the  human  mind  had  been 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  289 

as  tolerant  towards  its  oiiences.  But  it  usually  happens, 
that  just  when  governments  have  begun  to  lose  their 
influence  and  power,  just  when  they  are  comparatively 
harmless,  that  they  are  most  exposed  to  attack  ;  it  is  then 
that,  like  the  sick  lion,  they  may  be  attacked  with  impu- 
nity, though  the  attempt  would  have  been  desperate  when 
they  were  in  the  plenitude  of  their  power. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  simply  from  the  consideration 
of  the  state  of  the  human  mind  at  this  period,  and  of  the 
power  which  then  governed  it,  that  the  Reformation 
must  have  been,  I  repeat  it,  a  sudden  effort  made  by  the 
human  mind  to  achieve  its  liberty,  a  great  insurrection  of 
human  intelligence.  This,  doubtless,  was  the  leading 
cause  of  the  Reformation,  the  cause  which  soared  above 
all  the  rest  ;  a  cause  superior  to  every  interest  either  of 
sovereigns  or  of  nations,  superior  to  the  need  of  reform 
properly  so  called,  or  of  the  redress  of  the  grievances 
which  were  complained  of  at  this  period. 

Let  us  suppose,  that  after  the  first  years  of  the  Reforma- 
tion had  passed  aw^ay,  when  it  had  made  all  its  demands, 
and  insisted  on  all  its  grievances, — let  us  suppose,  T  say, 
that  the  spiritual  power  had  conceded  every  thing,  and 
said,  "  Well,  be  it  so  ;  I  will  make  every  reform  you  de- 
sire ;  I  will  return  to  a  more  legal,  more  truly  religious 
order  of  affairs.  I  will  suppress  arbitrary  exactions  and 
tributes  ;  even  in  matters  of  belief  I  will  modify  my  doc- 
trines, and  return  to  the  primitive  standard  of  Christian 
faith.  But,  having  thus  redressed  all  your  grievances,  I 
must  preserve  my  station,  and  retain,  as  formerly,  the 
government  of  the  human  mind,  with  all  the  powers  and 
all  the  rights  which  I  have  hitherto  enjoyed." — Can  we 
believe  that  the  religious  revolution  would  have  been  satis- 
fied with  these  concessions,  and  would  have  stopped  short 
in  its  course  1  I  cannot  think  so ;  I  firmly  believe  that  it 
would  have  continued  its  career,  and  that  after  having 

25 


290  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

obtained  reform,  it  would  have  demanded  liberty.  The 
crisis  of  the  sixteenth  century  was  not  merely  of  a  reform- 
ing character  ;  it  was  essentially  revolutionary.  It  cannot 
be  deprived  of  this  character,  with  all  the  good  and  evil 
that  belongs  to  it ;  its  nature  may  be  traced  in  its  effects. 
Let  us  take  a  glance  at  the  destinies  of  the  Reforma- 
tion j  let  us  see,  more  particularly,  what  it  has  produced 
in  the  different  countries  in  which  it  developed  itself.  It 
can  hardly  escape  observation  that  it  exhibited  itself  in 
very  different  situations,  and  with  very  different  chances 
of  success ;  if  then  we  find  that,  notwithstanding  this  di- 
versity of  situations  and  chances,  it  has  always  pursued  a 
certain  object,  obtained  a  certain  result,  and  preserved  a 
certain  character,  it  must  be  evident  that  this  character, 
which  has  surmounted  all  the  diversities  of  situation,  all 
the'^inequalities  of  chance,  must  be  the  fundamental  char- 
acter of  the  event ;  and  that  this  result  must  be  the  essen- 
tial object  of  its  pursuit. 

Well  then,  wherever  the  religious  revolution  of  the  six- 
teenth century  prevailed,  if  it  did  not  accomplish  a  com- 
plete emancipation  of  the  human  mind,  it  procured  it  a 
new  and  great  increase  of  liberty.  It  doubtless  left  the 
mind  subject  to  all  the  chances  of  liberty  or  thraldom 
which  might  arise  from  political  institutions  ;  but  it  abol- 
ished or  disarmed  the  spiritual  power,  the  systematic  and 
formidable  government  of  the  mind.  This  was  the  result 
obtained  by  the  Reformation,  uotAvithstanding  the  infinite 
diversity  of  circumstances  under  which  it  took  place.  In 
Germany  there  was  no  political  liberty ;  the  Reformation 
did  not  introduce  it;  it  rather  strengthened  than  enfeebled 
the  power  of  princes ;  it  was  rather  opposed  to  the  free  in- 
stitutions of  the  middle  ages  than  favourable  to  their  pro- 
gress. Still,  in  spite  of  this,  it  excited  and  maintained  in 
Germany  a  greater  freedom  of  thought,  probably,  than  in 
any  other  country.  In  Denmark  too,  a  country  in  which  ab- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  291 

solute  power  predominated  in  the  municipal  institutions,  as 
well  as  the  general  institutions  of  the  state,  thought  was 
emancipated  through  the  influence  of  the  Reformation,  and 
freely  exercised  on  every  subject.  In  Holland,  under  a 
republic  ;  in  England,  under  a  constitutional  monarchy, 
and  in  spite  of  a  religious  tyranny  which  was  long  very 
severe,  the  emancipation  of  the  human  mind  was  accom- 
plished by  the  same  influence.  And  lastly,  in  France, 
which  seemed  from  its  situation  the  least  likely  of  any  to 
be  affected  by  this  religious  revolution,  even  in  this  coun- 
try, where  it  was  actually  overcome,  it  became  a  princi- 
ple of  mental  independence,  of  intellectual  freedom.  Till 
the  year  1685,  that  is,  till  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of 
Nantes,  the  Reformation  enjoyed  a  legal  existence  in 
France.  During  this  long  space  of  time,  the  reformers 
wrote,  disputed,  and  provoked  their  adversaries  to  write 
and  dispute  with  them.  This  single  fact,  this  war  of 
tracts  and  disputations  between  the  old  and  new  opinions, 
diflfused  in  France  a  greater  degree  of  real  and  active  lib- 
erty than  is  commonly  believed  ;  a  liberty  which  redound- 
ed to  the  advantage  of  science  and  morality,  to  the  honour 
of  the  French  clergy,  and  to  the  benefit  of  the  mind  in 
general.  Look  at  the  conferences  of  Bossuet  with  Claude, 
and  at  all  the  religious  controversy  of  that  period,  and 
ask  yourselves  if  Louis  XIV.  would  have  permitted  a  sim- 
ilar degree  of  freedom  on  any  other  subject.  It  was  be- 
tween the  reformers  and  the  opposite  party  that  the  great- 
est freedom  of  opinion  existed  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
Religious  questions  were  treated  in  a  bolder  and  freer 
spirit  of  speculation  than  political,  even  by  Fenelon  him- 
self in  his  Telemachus.  This  state  of  things  lasted  till 
the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes.  Now,  from  the 
year  1685  to  the  explosion  of  the  human  mind  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  there  was  not  an  interval  of  forty  years; 
and  the  influence  of  the  religious  revolution  in  favour  of 


292  GENERAL    HISTORY   OF 

intellectual  liberty  had  scarcely  ceased  when  the  influ- 
ence of  the  revolution  in  philosophy  began  to  operate. 

You  see,  then,  that  wherever  the  Keformation  pene- 
trated, wherever  it  acted  an  important  part,  whether  con- 
queror or  conquered,  its  general,  leading,  and  constant 
result  was  an  immense  progress  in  mental  activity  and 
freedom ;  an  immense  step  towards  the  emancipation  of 
the  human  mind. 

Again,  not  only  was  this  the  result  of  the  Reformation, 
but  it  was  content  with  this  result.  Wherever  this  was 
obtained,  no  other  was  sought  for ;  so  entirely  vras  it  the 
very  foundation  of  the  event,  its  primitive  and  fundamental 
character  !  Thus,  in  Germany,  far  from  demanding  politi- 
cal liberty,  the  Reformation  accepted,  I  shall  not  say  servi- 
tude, but  the  absence  of  liberty.  In  England,  it  consented 
to  the  hierarchical  constitution  of  the  clergy,  and  to  the 
existence  of  a  Church,  as  full  of  abuses  as  ever  the  Romish 
Church  had  been,  and  much  more  servile.  Why  did  the 
Reformation,  so  ardent  and  rigid  in  certain  respects,  ex- 
hibit, in  these  instances,  so  much  facility  and  suppleness  1 
Because  it  had  obtained  the  general  result  to  which  it 
tended,  the  abolition  of  the  spiritual  power,  and  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  human  mind.  I  repeat  it ;  wherever  the 
Reformation  attained  this  object,  it  accommodated  itself 
to  every  form  of  government,  and  to  every  situation. 

Let  us  now  test  this  fact  by  the  opposite  mode  of  proof; 
let  us  see  what  happened  in  those  countries  into  which  the 
Reformation  did  not  penetrate,  or  in  which  it  was  early 
suppressed.  We  learn  from  history  that,  in  those  countries, 
the  human  mind  Avas  not  emancipated;  witness  two  great 
countries,  Spain  and  Italy.  While,  in  those  parts  of  Eu- 
rope into  which  the  Reformation  very  largely  entered,  the 
human  mind,  during  the  last  three  centuries,  has  acquired 
an  activity  and  freedom  previously  unknown  ; — in  those 
other  parts,  into  which  it  was  never  allowed  to  make  its 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  293 

way,  the  mind,  during  the  same  period,  has  become  lan- 
guid and  inert :  so  that  opposite  sets  of  facts,  which  hap- 
pened at  the  same  time,  concur  in  establishing  the  same 
result. 

The  impulse  which  was  given  to  human  thought,  and  the 
abolition  of  absolute  power  in  the  spiritual  order,  consti- 
tuted, then,  the  essential  character  of  the  Keformation, 
the  most  general  result  of  its  influence,  the  ruling  fact  in 
its  destiny. 

I  use  the  word  fact^  and  I  do  so  on  purpose.  The  eman- 
cipation of  the  human  mind,  in  the  course  of  the  Kefor- 
mation, was  a  fact,  rather  than  a  principle,  a  result  rather 
than  an  intention.  The  Reformation,  I  believe,  has  in  this 
respect,  performed  more  than  it  undertook, — more,  proba- 
bly, than  it  desired.  Contrary  to  what  has  happened  in 
many  other  revolutions,  the  effects  of  which  have  not 
come  up  to  their  design,  the  consequences  of  the  Reforma- 
tion have  gone  beyond  the  object  it  had  in  viewj  it  is 
greater,  considered  as  an  event,  than  as  a  system;  it  has 
never  completely  known  all  that  it  has  done,  nor,  if  it  had, 
would  it  have  completely  avowed  it. 

What  are  the  reproaches  constantly  applied  to  the  Re- 
formation by  its  enemies  1  which  of  its  results  are  thro^vn 
in  its  face,  as  it  were,  as  unanswerable  % 

The  two  principal  reproaches  are,  first,  the  multiplicity 
of  sects,  the  excessive  license  of  thought,  the  destruction 
of  all  spiritual  authority,  and  the  entire  dissolution  of  reli- 
gious society :  secondly,  tyranny  and  persecution.  "  You 
provoke  licentiousness, "^  it  has  been  said  to  the  Reform- 
ers,— "  you  produced  it ;  and,  after  having  been  the  cause 
of  it,  you  wish  to  restrain  and  repress  it.  And  how  do 
you  repress  it  %  By  the  most  harsh  and  violent  means. 
You  take  upon  yourselves,  too,  to  punish  heresy,  and  that 
by  virtue  of  an  illegitimate  authority." 

If  we  take  a  review  of  all  the  prmeipal  charges  which 
25* 


^94>    '  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

have  been  made  against  the  Reformation,  we  shall  find,  if 
we  set  aside  all  questions  purely  doctrinal,  that  the  above 
are  the  two  fundamental  reproaches  to  which  they  may  all 
be  reduced. 

These  charges  gave  great  embarrassment  to  the  reform 
party.  When  they  were  taxed  with  the  multiplicity  of 
their  sects,  instead  of  advocating  the  freedom  of  religious 
opinion,  and  maintaining  the  right  of  every  sect  to  entire 
toleration,  they  denounced  sectarianism,  lamented  it,  and 
endeavoured  to  find  excuses  for  its  existence.  Were 
they  accused  of  persecution  1  They  were  troubled  to 
defend  themselves  ;  they  used  the  plea  of  necessity ;  they 
had,  they  said,  the  right  to  repress  and  punish  error,  be- 
cause they  were  in  possession  of  the  truth.  Their  arti- 
cles of  belief,  they  contended,  and  their  institutions,  were 
the  only  legitimate  ones;  and  if  the  Church  of  Rome  had 
not  the  right  to  punish  the  reformed  party,  it  was  because 
she  was  in  the  wrong  and  they  in  the  right. 

And  when  the  charge  of  persecution  was  applied  to  the 
ruling  party  in  the  Reformation,  not  by  its  enemies,  but 
by  its  own  offspring ;  when  the  sects  denounced  by  that 
party  said,  "We  are  doing  just  what  you  did  ;  we  sepa- 
rate ourselves  from  you,  just  as  you  separated  yourselves 
from  the  Church  of  Rome,"  this  ruling  party  were  still 
mor€  at  a  loss  to  find  an  answer,  and  frequently  the  only 
answer  they  had  to  give  was  an  increase  of  severity. 

The  truth  is,  that  while  labouring  for  the  destruction  of 
absolute  power  in  the  spiritual  order,  the  religious  revolu- 
tion of  the  sixteenth  century  was  not  aware  of  the  true 
principles  of  intellectual  liberty.  It  emancipated  the  hu- 
man mind,  and  yet  pretended  still  to  govern  it  by  laws. 
In  point  of  fact  it  produced  the  prevalence  of  free  inq^uiry  '^ 
in  point  of  principle  it  believed  that  it  w^as  substituting  a 
legitimate  for  an  illegitimate  power.  It  had  not  looked  up 
to  the  primary  motive,  nor  down  to  the  ultimate  consequent 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  295 

ces  of  its  own  work.  It  thus  fell  into  a  double  error.  On  the 
one  side  it  did  not  know  or  respect  all  the  rights  of  human 
thought;  at  the  very  moment  that  it  ^vas  demanding 
these  rights  for  itself,  it  was  violating  them  towards 
others.  On  the  other  side,  it  was  unable  to  estimate  the 
rights  of  authority  in  matters  of  reason.  I  do  not  speak 
of  that  coercive  authority  which  ought  to  have  no  rights 
at  all  in  such  matters,  but  of  that  kind  of  authority  v^'hich 
is  purely  moral,  and  acts  solely  by  its  influence  upon  the 
mind.  In  most  reformed  countries,  something  is  wanting 
to  complete  the  proper  organization  of  intellectual  society, 
and  to  the  regular  action  of  old  and  general  opinions. 
What  is  due  to  and  required  by  traditional  belief,  has  not 
been  reconciled  with  what  is  due  to  and  required  bj^  free- 
dom of  thinking;  and  the  cause  of  this  undoubtedly  is, 
that  the  Reformation  did  not  fully  comprehend  and  accept 
its  own  principles  and  effects. 

Hence,  too,  the  Eeformation  acquired  an  appearance  of 
inconsistency  and  narrowness  of  mind,  which  has  often 
given  an  advantage  to  its  enemies.  They  knew  very  well 
what  they  w^ere  about,  and  what  they  ^vanted  ;  they  cited 
the  principles  af  their  conduct  w'ithout  scruple,  and  avow- 
ed all  its  consequences.  There  never  was  a  government 
more  consistent  and  systematic  than  that  of  the  Church 
of  Eome.  In  point  of  fact\  the  Court  of  Rome  made  more 
compromises  and  concessions  than  the  Reformation  ;  in 
^omt  oi  principle^  \i  adhered  much  more  closelj'- to  its 
system,  and  maintained  a  more  consistent  line  of  conduct. 
Great  strength  is  gained  by  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the 
nature  of  one^s  own  views  and  actions,  by  a  complete 
and  rational  adoption  of  a  certain  principle  and  design  ; 
and  a  striking  example  of  this  is  to.  be  found  in  the  course 
of  the  religious  revolution  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Every 
body  knows  that  the  principalpower  instituted  to  contend 
against   the  Reformation  was  the   order  of  the  Jesuits. 


296  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Look  for  a  moment  at  their  history  j  they  failed  every- 
where  ;  wherever  they  interfered,  to  any  extent,  they 
brought  misfortune  upon  the  cause  in  which  they  med- 
dled. In  England,  they  ruined  kings  ;  in  Spain,  whole 
masses  of  the  people.  The  general  course  of  events,  the 
development  of  modern  civilization,  the  freedom  of  the 
human  mind,  all  these  forces  with  which  the  Jesuits  were 
called  upon  to  contend,  rose  up  against  them  and  over- 
came them.  And  not  only  did  they  fail,  but  you  must 
remember  what  sort  of  means  they  were  constrained  to 
employ.  There  was  nothing  great  or  splendid  in  what 
they  did;  they  produced  no  striking  events,  they  did  not 
put  in  motion  powerful  masses  of  men.  They  proceeded 
by  dark  and  hidden  courses ;  courses  by  no  means  calcu- 
lated to  strike  the  imagination,  or  to  conciliate  that  public 
interest  which  always  attaches  itself  to  great  things,  what- 
ever may  be  their  principle  and  object.  The  party  oppo- 
sed to  them,  on  the  contrary,  not  only  overcame,  but  over- 
came sifjnally ;  did  great  things  and  by  great  means ;  over- 
spread Europe  with  great  men  ;  changed,  in  open  day,  the 
condition  and  form  of  States.  Every  thing,  in  short,  was 
ao-ainst  the  Jesuits,  both  fortune  and  appearances  ;  reason, 
which  desires  success,— and  imagination,  which  requires 
eclat, — were  alike  disappointed  by  their  fate.  Still,  how- 
ever, they  were  undoubtedly  possessed  of  grandeur ; 
great  ideas  are  attached  to  their  name,  their  influence, 
and  their  history.  The  reason  is,  that  they  knew  what 
they  did,  and  what  they  wished  to  accomplish  ;  that  they 
were  fully  and  clearly  aware  of  the  principles  upon  which 
they  acted,  and  of  the  object  which  they  had  in  view. 
They  possessed  grandeur  of  thought  and  of  will ;  and 
it  was  this  that  saved  them  from  the  ridicule  which 
attends  constant  reverses,  and  the  use  of  paltry  means. 
Wherever,  on  the  contrary,  the  event  has  been  greater 
than  the  design,  wherever  there  is  an  appearance  of  igno- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  297 

ranee  of  the  first  principles  and  ultimate  results  of  an 
action,  there  has  always  remained  a  degree  of  incomplete- 
ness, inconsistency,  and  narrowness  of  view,  which  has 
placed  the  very  victors  in  a  state  of  rational  or  philosophi- 
cal inferiority,  the  influence  of  which  has  sometimes  been 
apparent  in  the  course  of  events.  This,  I  think,  in  the 
struggle  between  the  old  and  the  new  order  of  things,  in 
matters  of  religion,  was  the  weak  side  of  the  Reformation, 
which  often  embarrassed  its  situation,  and  prevented  it 
from  defending  itself  so  well  as  it  had  a  right  to  do. 

I  might  consider  the  religious  revolution  of  the  sixteenth 
century  under  many  other  aspects.  I  have  said  nothing, 
and  have  nothing  to  say,  respecting  it  as  a  matter  of 
doctrine — respecting  its  effects  on  religion,  properly  so 
called,  or  respecting  the  relations  of  the  human  soul  with 
God  and  an  eternal  futurity  ;  but  I  might  exhibit  it  in  its 
various  relations  with  social  order,  everywhere  producing 
results  of  immense  importance.  For  example,  it  intro- 
duced religion  into  the  midst  of  the  laity,  into  the  world, 
so  to  speak,  of  believers.  Till  then,  religion  had  been  the 
exclusive  domain  of  the  ecclesiastical  order.  The  clergy 
distributed  the  proceeds,  but  reserved  to  themselves  the 
disposal  of  the  capital,  and  almost  the  exclusive  right 
even  to  speak  of  it.  The  Reformation  again  threw  mat- 
ters of  religious  belief  into  general  circulation,  and  again 
opened  to  believers  the  field  of  faith,  into  which  they  had 
not  been  permitted  to  enter.  It  had,  at  the  same  time,  a 
further  result  ;  it  banished,  or  nearly  so,  religion  from  pol- 
itics, and  restored  the  independence  of  the  temporal  power. 
At  the  same  moment  that  religion  returned  into  the  pos- 
session of  believers,  it  quitted  the  government  of  society. 
In  the  reformed  countries,  in  spite  of  the  diversities  of  ec- 
clesiastical constitutions,  even  in  Eng-land,  whose  consti- 
tution  is  most  nearly  akin  to  the  old  order  of  things,  the 
spiritual  power  has  no  longer  any  serious  pretensions  to 
the  government  of  the  temporal  power* 


298  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

I  might  enumerate  many  other  consequences  of  the 
Reformation,  but  I  must  limit  myself  to  the  above  general 
views  :  and  I  am  satisfied  with  having  placed  before  you 
its  principal  feature — the  emancipation  of  the  human 
mind,  and  the  abolition  of  absolute  power  in  the  spiritual 
order  ;  an  abolition  which,  though,  undoubtedly,  not  com- 
plete, is  yet  the  greatest  step  which,  down  to  our  own 
times,  has  ever  been  made  towards  the  attainment  of  that 
object. 

Before  concluding,  I  pray  you  to  remark,  what  a  striking 
resemblance  of  destiny  there  is  to  be  found,  in  the  history 
of  modern  Europe,  between  civil  and  religious  society,  in 
the  revolutions  they  have  had  to  undergo. 

Christian  society,  as  we  have  seen  when  I  spoke  of  the 
Church,  was,  at  first,  a  state  of  society  perfectly  free, 
formed  entirely  in  the  name  of  a  common  belief,  without 
institutions  or  government,  properly  so  called  ;  regulated, 
solely,  by  moral  and  variable  powers,  according  to  the  ex- 
igencies of  the  moment.  Civil  society  began,  in  like  man- 
ner, in  Europe,  partly,  at  least,  by  bands  of  barbarians  ;  it 
was  a  state  of  society  perfectly  free,  in  which  every  one 
remained,  because  he  wished  to  do  so,  without  laws  or 
powers  created  by  institutions.  In  emerging  from  that 
state  which  was  inconsistent  with  any  great  social  devel- 
opment, religious  society  placed  itself  under  a  government 
essentially  aristocratic ;  its  governors  were  the  clergy, 
the  bishops,  the  councils,  the  ecclesiastical  aristocracy. 
A  fact  of  the  same  kind  took  place  in  civil  society  when 
it  emerged  from  barbarism  ;  it  was,  in  like  manner,  the 
aristocracy,  the  feudalism  of  the  laity,  which  laid  hold  of 
the  power  of  government.  Religious  society  quitted  the 
aristocratic  form  of  government  to  assume  that  of  pure 
monarchy  ;  this  was  the  rationale  of  the  triumph  of  the 
Court  of  Rome  over  the  councils  and  the  ecclesiastical 
aristocracy  of  Europe.  The  same  revolution  was  accom- 
plished in   civil   society  j  it   was,  in  like  manner,  by  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  299 

destruction  of  the  aristocratic  power,  that  monarchy  pre- 
vailed, and  took  possession  of  the  European  world.  In 
the  sixteenth  century,  in  the  heart  of  religious  society, 
an  insurrection  broke  out  against  the  system  of  pure 
ecclesiastical  monarchy,  against  absolute  power  in  the 
spiritual  order.  This  revolution  produced,  sanctioned, 
and  established  freedom  of  inquiry  in  Europe.  In  our 
own  time  we  have  witnessed  a  similar  event  in  civil  socie- 
ty. Absolute  temporal  power,  in  like  manner,  was  attack- 
ed and  overcome.  You  see,  then,  that  the  two  orders  of 
society  have  undergone  the  same  vicissitudes  and  revolu- 
tions ;  only  religious  society  has  always  been  the  fore- 
most in  this  career. 

We  are  now  in  possession  of  one  of  the  great  fjicts  in 
the  history  of  modern  society — freedom  of  inquiry,  the 
liberty  of  the  human  mind.  We  see,  at  the  same  time, 
the  almost  universal  prevalence  of  political  centralization. 
In  my  next  lecture  I  shall  consider  the  revolution  in  Eng- 
land ;  the  event  in  which  freedom  of  inquiry  and  a  pure 
monarchy,  both  results  of  the  progress  of  civilization, 
came,  for  the  first  time,  into  collision. 


300  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 


LECTURE   XIII. 

THE     ENGLISH     REVOLUTION. 

We  have  seen,  that  during  the  course  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  all  the  elements,  all  the  facts,  of  ancient  Euro- 
pean society  had  merged  in  two  essential  facts,  the  right 
of  free  examination,  and  centralization  of  power  5  one 
prevailing  in  religious  society,  the  other  in  civil  societj'. 
The  emancipation  of  the  human  mind  and  absolute  mon- 
archy triumphed  at  the  same  moment  over  Europe  in 
general. 

It  could  hardly  be  conceived  that  a  struggle  between 
these  two  facts — the  characters  of  which  appear  so  con- 
tradictory— would  not,  at  some  time,  break  out ;  for  while 
one  was  the  defeat  of  absolute  power  in  the  spiritual 
order,  the  other  was  the  triumph  of  absolute  power  in  the 
temporal  order;  one  forced  on  the  decline  of  the  ancient 
ecclesiastical  monarchy,  the  other  was  the  consummation 
of  the  ruin  of  the  ancient  feudal  and  municipal  liberty. 
Their  simultaneous  appearance  was  owing,  as  I  have 
already  observed,  to  the  circumstance  that  the  revolutions 
of  the  religious  society  followed  more  rapidly  than  those 
of  the  civil ;  one  had  arrived  at  the  point  in  which  the 
freedom  of  individual  thought  was  secured,  while  the 
other  still  lingered  on  the  spot  where  the  concentration  of 
all  the  powers  in  one  general  power  took  place.  The  co- 
incidence of  these  two  facts,  so  far  from  being  the  con- 
sequence of  their  similitude,  did  not  even  prevent  their 
contradiction.  They  were  both  advances  in  the  march  of 
civilization,  but  they  were  advances  connected  with  dif- 
ferent situations;  advances  of  a  different  moral  date,  if 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  301 

I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  although  coincident  in 
time.  From  their  position  it  seemed  inevitable  that  they 
must  clash  and  combat  before  a  reconciliation  could  be 
effected  between  them. 

The  first  shock  between  them  took  place  in  England. 
The  struggle  of  the  right  of  free  inquiry,  the  fruit  of  the 
Reformation,  against  the  entire  suppression  of  political 
liberty,  the  object  aimed  at  by  pure  monarchy — the  at- 
tempt to  abolish  absolute  power  in  the  temporal  order,  as 
had  already  been  done  in  the  spiritual  order — this  is  the 
true  sense  of  the  English  revolution  j  this  is  the  part  it 
took  in  the  work  of  civilization. 

But  how,  it  may  be  asked,  came  it  to  pass,  that  this 
struggle  took  place  in  England  sooner  than  anywhere  else  1 
How  happened  it  that  the  revolutions  of  a  political  char- 
acter coincided  here  with  those  of  a  moral  character 
sooner  than  they  did  on  the  Continent  1 

In  England,  the  royal  power  had  undergone  the  same 
vicissitudes  as  it  had  on  the  Continent.  Under  the  Tudors 
it  had  reached  a  degree  of  concentration  and  vigour  which 
it  had  never  attained  to  before.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that 
the  practical  despotism  of  the  Tudors  was  more  violent 
and  vexatious  than  that  of  their  predecessors  ;  there  were 
quite  as  manj',  perhaps  more,  tyrannical  proceedings,  vex- 
ations, and  acts  of  injustice,  under  the  Plantagenets,  as 
under  the  Tudors.  Perhaps,  too,  at  this  very  period  the 
government  of  pure  monarchy  was  more  severe  and  arbi- 
trary on  the  Continent  than  in  England.  The  new  fact 
under  the  Tudors  was,  that  absolute  power  became  sys- 
tematic ;  royalty  laid  claim  to  a  primitive,  independent 
sovereignty  ;  it  held  a  language  which  it  had  never  held 
before.  The  theoretic  claims  of  Henry  YIIL,  Elizabeth, 
James  I.,  and  Charles  I.,  are  very  different  from  those  of 
Edward  L,  and  III.,  although  in  point  offact,  the  power 
of  the  two  latter  monarchs  was  nowise  less  arbitrary  or 

26 


304  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

extensive.  I  repeat,  then,  it  was  the  principle,  the  rational 
system  of  monarchy,  which  changed  in  England,  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  rather  than  its  practical  power  ;  roy- 
alty now  declared  itself  absolute  and  superior  to  all  laws, 
even  to  those  which  it  declared  itself  willing  to  respect. 

There  is  another  point  to  be  considered ;  the  religious 
revolution  had  not  been  accomplished  in  England  in  the 
same  way  as  on  the  Continent  j  it  was  here  the  work  of 
the  monarchs  themselves.  It  must  not  be  supposed  that 
the  seeds  had  not  been  sown,  or  that  even  attempts  had 
not  been  made  at  a  popular  reform,  or  that  one  would  not 
probably  have  soon  broken  out.  But  Henry  VIII.  took 
the  lead  ;  power  became  revolutionary  ;  and  hence  it  hap- 
pened, at  least  in  its  origin,  that,  as  a  redress  of  ecclesias- 
tical abuses,  as  an  emancipation  of  the  human  mind,  the 
reform  in  England  was  much  less  complete  than  upon  the 
Continent.  It  was  made,  as  might  naturally  be  expected, 
in  accordance  with  the  interests  of  its  authors.  The  king 
and  the  episcopacy,  which  was  here  continued,  divided  be- 
tween themselves  the  riches  and  the  power,  of  which  they 
despoiled  their  predecessors,  the  popes.  The  effect  of 
this  was  soon  felt.  The  Reformation,  people  cried  out, 
had  been  closed,  while  the  greater  part  of  the  abuses 
which  had  induced  them  to  desire  it,  were  still  continued. 

The  Reformation  re-appeared  under  a  more  popular 
form  ;  it  made  the  same  demands  of  the  bishops  that  had 
already  been  made  of  the  Holy  See  ;  it  accused  them  of 
being  so  many  popes.  As  often  as  the  general  fate  of  the 
religious  revolution  was  compromised  ;  whenever  a  strug- 
gle against  the  ancient  Church  took  place,  the  various 
portions  of  the  Reformation  partly  rallied  together,  and 
made  common  cause  against  the  common  enemy :  but  this 
danger  over,  the  struggle  again  broke  out  among  them- 
selves ;  the  poptflar  form  again  attacked  the  aristocratic 
and  royal  reform,  denounced  its  abuses,  complained  of  its 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  303 

tyranny,  called  upon  it  to  make  good  its  promises,  and 
not  to  usurp  itself  the  power  which  it  had  just  dethroned. 

Much  about  the  same  time  a  movement  for  liberty  took 
place  in  civil  society  ;  a  desire  before  unknown,  or  at  least 
but  weakly  expressed,  was  now  felt  for  political  freedom. 
In  the  course  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  commercial 
prosperity  of  England  had  increased  with  amazing  rapid- 
ity, while  during  the  same  time,  much  territorial  w^ealth, 
much  baronial  property  had  changed  hands.  The  nume- 
rous divisions  of  landed  property,  which  took  place  during 
the  sixteenth  century,  in  consequence  of  the  ruin  of  the 
feudal  nobility,  and  from  various  other  causes  which  I  can- 
not now  stop  to  enumerate,  form  a  fact  w^hich  has  not 
been  sufficiently  noticed.  A  variety  of  documents  prove 
how  greatly  the  number  of  landed  properties  increased  j 
the  estates  going  generally  into  the  hands  of  the  gentry, 
composed  of  the  lesser  nobility,  and  persons  who  had 
acquired  property  by  trade.  The  high  nobility,  the  House 
of  Lords,  did  not,  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  nearly  equal,  in  riches,  the  House  of  Commons. 
There  had  taken  place,  then,  at  the  same  time  in  England, 
a  great  increase  in  wealth  among  the  industrious  classes, 
and  a  great  change  in  landed  property.  While  these  two 
facts  were  being  accomplished,  there  happened  a  third: 
a  new  march  of  mind. 

The  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth  must  be  regarded  as  a 
period  of  great  literary  and  philosophical  activity  in  Eng- 
land, a  period  remarkable  for  bold  and  pregnant  thought ; 
the  Puritans  followed,  without  hesitation,  all  the  conse- 
quences of  a  narrow,  but  powerful  creed  ;  other  intellects, 
with  less  morality,  but  more  freedom  and  boldness,  alike 
regardless  of  principle  or  system,  seized  with  avidity 
upon  every  idea,  which  seemed  to  promise  some  gratifi- 
cation to  their  curiosity,  some  food  for  their  mental 
ardour.     And  it  may  be  regarded  as  a  maxim,  that  wher- 


304  GENERAL   HISTORlf   0? 

ever  the  progress  of  intelligence  is  a  true  pleasure,  a  de- 
sire for  liberty  is  soon  felt,  nor  is  it  long  in  passing  from 
the  public  mind  to  the  state. 

A  feeling  of  the  same  kind,  a  sort  of  creeping  desire 
for  political  liberty,  almost  manifested  itself  in  some  of 
the  countries  on  the  continent  in  which  the  reformation 
had  made  some  way ;  but  these  countries,  being  without 
the  means  of  success,  made  no  progress ;  they  knew  not 
how  to  make  their  desire  felt ;  they  could  find  no  support 
for  it  either  in  institutions,  or  in  the  habits  and  usages  of 
the  people  ;  hence  this  desire  remained  vague,  uncertain, 
and  sought  in  vain  for  the  means  of  satisfying  its  cravings. 
In  England  the  case  w^as  av idely  different :  the  spirit  of 
political  liberty  which  showed  itself  here  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  as  a  sort  of  appendix  to  the  reformation,  found 
both  a  firm  support  and  the  means  of  speaking  and  acting 

in  the  ancient  institutions  of  the  country,  and  indeed  the 

.-..._.        ,   .  .-.-,,       ....         ,,1  -  - 

whole  frame-work  of  English  society. 

There  is  hardly  any  one  w^ho  does  not  know^  the  origin 
of  the  free  institutions  of  England.  How,  in  1215,  a  coa- 
lition of  the  great  barons  wTested  Magna  Charta  from 
John ;  but  it  is  not  quite  so  generally  known,  that  this 
charter  was  renew^ed  and  confirmed,  from  time  to  time,  by 
almost  every  king.  It  was  confirmed  upwards  of  thirty 
times  between  the  thirteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries,  be- 
sides which  new  statutes  w^ere  passed  to  confirm  and  ex- 
tend its  enactments.  Thus  it  lived,  as  it  were,  without  gap 
or  interval.  In  the  mean  time  the  House  of  Commons  had 
been  formed,  and  taken  its  place  among  the  sovereign  insti- 
tutions of  the  country.  Under  the  Plantagenets  it  had 
taken  deep  root  and  became  firmly  established  ;  not  that 
at  this  time  it  played  any  great  part,  or  had  even  much 
influence  in  the  government ;  it  scarcely  indeed  interfered 
in  this  except  when  called  upon  to  do  so  by  the  king,  and 
then  only  with  hesitation  and  regret  j  afraid  rather  of  bring- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  305 

ing  itself  into  trouble  and  danger,  than  jealous  of  augment- 
ing its  power  and  authority.  But  the  case  was  different 
when  it  was  called  upon  to  defend  private  rights,  the  house 
or  property  of  the  citizens,  or  in  short  the  rights  and  privile- 
ges of  individuals  ;  this  duty  the  House  of  Commons  per- 
formed with  wonderful  energy  and  perseverance,  putting 
forward  and  establishing  all  those  principles  \vhich  have  be- 
come the  basis  of  the  English  constitution.  Under  the 
Tudors  the  House  of  Commons,  or  rather  the  Parliament 
altogether,  put  on  a  new  character.  It  no  longer  defend- 
ed individual  liberty  so  well  as  under  the  Plantagenets, 
Arbitrary  detentions,  and  violations  of  private  rights, 
which  became  much  more  frequent,  were  often  passed  in 
silence.  But,  as  a  counterbalance  for  this,  the  Parliament 
interfered  to  a  much  greater  extent  than  formerly  in  the 
general  affairs  of  government.  Henry  VIII.,  in  order  to 
change  the  religion  of  the  country,  and  to  regulate  the 
succession,  required  some  public  support,  some  pub- 
lic instrument,  and  he  had  recourse  to  Parliament,  and 
especially  to  the  House  of  Commons,  for  this  purpose. 
This,  which  under  the  Plantagenets  had  only  been  a  means 
of  resistance,  a  guarantee  of  private  rights,  became  now, 
under  the  Tudors,  an  instrument  of  government,  of  gene- 
ral policy;  so  that  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
notwithstanding  it  had  been  the  tool,  and  submitted  to  the 
will  of  nearly  all  sorts  of  tyrannies,  its  importance  had 
greatly  increased ;  the  foundation  of  its  power  was  laid, 
the  foundation  of  that  powder  upon  which  truly  rests  repre- 
sentative government. 

In  taking  a  view,  then,  of  the  free  institutions  of  Eng- 
land at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  we  find  them  to 
consist :  first^  of  maxims — of  principles  of  liberty,  which 
had  been  constantly  acknowledged  in  written  documents, 
and  of  which  the  legislation  and  country  had  never  lost 
sight ;  secondly,  of  precedents,  of  exam-ples  of  liberty ; 
26* 


306  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

these,  it  is  true,  were  mixed  with  a  great  number  of  pre- 
cedents and  examples  of  an  opposite  nature ;  still  they 
were  quite  sufficient  to  maintain,  to  give  a  legal  character 
to  the  claims  of  the  friends  of  liberty,  and  to  support  them 
in  their  struggle  against  arbitrary  and  tyrannical  govern- 
ment j  thirdly,  particular,  and  local  institutions,  pregnant 
with  the  seeds  of  liberty,  the  jury,  the  right  of  holding 
public  meetings,  of  bearing  arms,  to  which  must  be  added 
the  independence  of  municipal  administration  and  juris- 
diction :  fourthly  and  filially,  the  parliament  and  its  au- 
thority, become  more  necessary  now  than  ever  to  the 
monarchs,  as  these,  having  dilapidated  the  greater  part  of 
their  independent  revenues,  crown  domains,  feudal  rights, 
&c.,  could  not  support  even  the  expenses  of  their  house- 
holds, without  having  recourse  to  a  vote  of  parliament. 

The  political  state  of  England  then  was  very  different  to 
that  of  the  continent ;  notwithstanding  the  tyranny  of  the 
Tudors,  notwithstanding  the  systematic  triumph  of  abso- 
lute monarchy,  there  still  remained  here  a  firm  support  for 
the  new  spirit  of  liberty,  a  sure  means  by  which  it  could 
act. 

At  this  epoch,  two  national  wants  were  felt  in  England  : 
on  one  hand,  a  want  of  religious  liberty  and  of  a  continua- 
tion of  the  reformation  already  begun  j  on  the  other,  a 
want  of  political  liberty,  which  seemed  arrested  by  the 
absolute  monarchy  now  establishing  its  power.  These 
two  parties  formed  an  alliance  :  the  party  which  wished 
to  carry  forward  religious  reform,  invoked  political  liberty 
to  the  aid  of  its  faith  and  conscience  against  the  bishops 
and  the  crown.  The  friends  of  political  liberty,  m  like 
manner,  sought  the  aid  of  the  friends  of  popular  religious 
reform.  The  two  parties  joined  their  forces  to  struggle 
against  absolute  power,  both  spiritual  and  political,  now 
concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the  king.  Such  is  the  origin 
and  signification  of  the  English  revolution. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  307 

It  appears,  then,  to  have  been  essentially  devoted  to  the 
defence  or  conquest  of  liberty.  For  the  religious  party  it 
was  a  means,  for  the  political  party  it  was  an  end  ;  but  the 
object  of  both  was  still  liberty,  and  they  were  determined 
to  pursue  it  in  common.  Properly  speaking,  there  had  been 
no  true  quarrel  between  the  episcopal  and  puritan  party  ; 
the  struggle  was  not  about  doctrines,  about  matters  of 
faith,  properly  so  called.  I  do  not  mean  that  these  were 
not  very  positive,  very  important,  and  differences  of  great- 
consequence  between  them;  but  this  was  not  the  main 
affair.  What  the  puritan  party  wished  to  obtain  from  the 
episcopal  was  practical  liberty  ;  this  was  the  object  for 
which  it  struggled.  It  must  however  be  admitted  that 
there  did  exist,  at  the  same  time,  a  religious  party  which 
had  a  system  to  found ;  a  set  of  doctrines,  a  form  of  dis- 
cipline, an  ecclesiastic  constitution,  which  it  wished  to 
establish — I  mean  the  presbyterians  ;  but  though  it  did  its 
best,  it  had  not  the  power  to  obtain  its  object.  Acting 
upon  the  defensive,  oppressed  by  the  bishops,  unable  to 
take  a  step  without  the  sanction  of  the  political  reformers, 
its  necessary  allies  and  chieftains,  liberty  naturally  became 
its  predominant  interest ;  this  was  the  general  interest, 
the  common  desire  of  all  the  parties  which  concurred  in 
the  movement,  however  different  in  other  respects  might 
be  their  views.  Taking  these  matters  then  altogether, 
we  must  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  English  revolu- 
tion was  essentially  political ;  it  was  accomplished  in  the 
midst  of  a  religious  people  and  a  religious  age;  religious 
ideas  and  passions  often  became  its  instruments ;  but  its 
primary  intention  and  its  definite  object  were  decidedly 
political,  a  tendency  to  liberty,  the  destruction  of  all  ab- 
solute power. 

I  shall  now  briefly  run  over  the  various  phases  of  this 
revolution,  and  analyze  it  into  the  great  parties  that  suc- 
ceeded one  another  in  its  course.     I  shall  afterwards  con- 


308  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

nect  it  with  the  general  career  of  European  civilization; 
I  shall  show  its  place  and  influence  therein  ;  and  you  will 
be  satisfied,  from  the  detail  of  facts  as  well  as  from  its 
first  aspect,  that  it  was  truly  the  first  collision  of  free  in- 
quiry and  pure  monarchy,  the  first  onset  that  took  place 
in  the  struggle  between  these  two  great  and  opposite 
powers. 

Three  principal  parties  appeared  upon  the  stage  at  this 
important  crisis ;  three  revolutions  seem  to  have  been 
contained  within  it,  and  to  have  successively  appeared 
upon  the  scene.  In  each  party,  in  each  revolution,  tw^o 
parties  moved  together  in  alliance,  a  political  party  and  a 
religious  party  ;  the  former  took  the  lead,  the  second  fol- 
lowed, but  one  could  not  go  without  the  other,  so  that  a 
double  character  seems  to  be  imprinted  upon  it  in  all  its 
changes. 

The  first  party  which  appeared  in  the  field,  and  under 
whose  banners  ae  the  beginning  marched  all  the  others, 
was  the  high,  pure-monarchy  party,  advocating  legal  re- 
form. When  the  revolution  began,  when  the  long  parlia- 
ment assembled  in  1640,  it  was  generally  said,  and  sin- 
cerely believed  by  many,  that  a  legal,  a  constitutional 
reform  would  suffice  ;  that  the  ancient  laws  and  practices 
of  the  countrjr  w^ere  sufficient  to  correct  every  abuse,  to 
establish  a  system  of  government  which  would  fully  meet 
the  wishes  of  the  public. 

This  party  highly  blamed  and  earnestly  desired  to  put  a 
stop  to  illegal  imposts,  to  arbitrary  imprisonments  — to  all 
acts,  indeed,  contrary  to  the  known  law  and  usages  of  the 
country.  But  under  these  ideas,  there  lay  hid,  as  it  were, 
a  belief  in  the  divine  right  of  the  king^and  in  his  absolute 
power.  A  secret  instinct  seemed  to  warn  it  that  there 
was  something  false  and  dangerous  in  this  notion  ;  and  on 
this  account  it  appeared  always  desirous  to  avoid  the  sub- 
ject.    Forced,  however,  at  last  to  speak  out,  it  acknow- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  309 

ledged  the  divine  right  of  kings,  and  admitted  that  they 
possessed  a  power  superior  to  all  hun)an  origin,  to  all  hu- 
man control ;  and  as  such  they  defended  it  in  time  of 
need.  Still,  however,  they  believed  that  this  sovereignty, 
though  absolute  in  principle,  was  bound  to  exercise  its 
authority  according  to  certain  rules  and  forms ;  that  it 
could  not  go  beyond  certain  limits  ;  and  that  these  rules, 
these  forms,  and  these  limits  were  sufficiently  established 
and  guaranteed  in  Magna  Charta,  in  the  confirmative 
statutes,  in  the  ancient  laws  and  usages  of  the  country. 
Such  was  the  political  creed  of  this  party.  In  religious 
matters,  it  believed  that  the  Episcopacy  had  greatly  en- 
croached ;  that  the  bishops  possessed  far  too  much  politi- 
cal power  5  that  their  jurisdiction  was  far  too  extensive, 
that  it  required  to  be  restrained,  and  its  proceedings 
jealously  watched.  Still  it  held  firmly  to  Episcopacy,  not 
merely  as  an  ecclesiastical  institution,  not  merely  as  a 
form  of  church  government,  but  as  a  necessary  support 
of  the  royal  prerogative,  and  as  a  means  of  defending  and 
maintaining  the  supremacy  of  the  king  in  matters  of  reli- 
gion. The  absolute  power  of  the  king  over  the  body 
politic,  exercised  according  to  the  forms  and  within  the 
limits  legally  acknowledged ;  the  supremacy  of  the  king 
as  head  of  the  Church,  applied  and  sustained  by  the  Epis- 
copacy, was  the  twofold  system  of  the  legal  reform  party. 
We  may  enumerate  as  it,s  chiefs,  Lord  Clarendon,  Cole- 
pepper,  Capel,  and,  though  a  more  ardent  friend  of  public 
liberty,  Lord  Falkland  ;  and  into  their  ranks  were  enlisted 
nearly  all  the  nobility  and  gentry  not  servilely  devoted  to 
the  court. 

Behind  this  party  advanced  a  second,  which  I  shall  call 
the  political-revolutionary  party :  it  differed  from  the 
foregoing,  inasmuch  as  it  did  not  believe  the  ancient  guar- 
antees, the  ancient  legal  barriers  sufficient  to  secure  the 
rights  and  liberties  of  the  people.     It  saw  that  a  great 


310  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

change,  a  genuine  revolution  was  wanting  not  only  in  the 
forms  but  in  the  spirit  and  essence  of  the  government  ; 
that  it  was  necessary  to  deprive  the  king  and  his  council 
of  the  unlimited  power  which  they  possessed,  and  to  place 
the  preponderance  in  the  House  of  Commons  5  so  that 
the  government  should,  in  fact,  be  in  the  hands  of  this 
assembly  and  its  leaders.  This  party  made  no  such  open 
and  systematic  profession  of  its  principles,  and  intentions, 
as  I  have  done  ;  but  this  was  the  real  character  of  its 
opinions,  and  of  its  political  tendencies.  Instead  of  ac- 
knowledging the  absolute  sovereignty  of  the  king,  it  con- 
tended for  the  sovereignty  of  the  House  of  Commons  as 
the  representatives  of  the  people.  Under  this  principle 
was  hid  that  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people  ;  a  notion 
which  the  party  was  as  far  from  considering  in  its  full  ex- 
tent, as  it  was  from  desiring  the  consequences  to  which 
it  might  ultimately  lead,  but  which  they  nevertheless  ad- 
mitted when  it  presented  itself  to  them  in  the  form  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

The  religious  party  most  closely  allied  to  this  political- 
revolutionary  one  was  that  of  the  presbyterians.  This 
Beet  wished  to  operate  much  the  same  revolution  in  the 
Church  as  their  allies  were  endeavouring  to  effect  in  the 
state.  They  desired  to  erect  a  system  of  church  govern- 
ment emanating  from  the  people,  and  composed  of  a 
series  of  assemblies  dove-tailed,  as  it  were,  into  each 
other ;  and  thus  to  give  to  their  national  assembly  the 
same  authority  in  ecclesiastical  matters  that  their  allies 
wished  to  give  in  political  to  the  House  of  Commons : 
only  that  the  revolution  contemplated  by  the  presbyteri- 
ans was  more  complete  and  daring  than  the  other,  foras- 
much as  it  aimed  at  changing  the  form  as  well  as  the 
principles  of  the  government  of  the  Church ;  while  the 
views  of  the  political  party  went  no  further  than  to  place 
the  influence,  the  preponderance,  in  the  body  of  the  peo- 


CIVILIZATION   IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  311 

pie,  without  meditating  any  great  alteration  in  the  form  of 
their  institutions. 

Hence  the  leaders  of  this  political  party  were  not  all 
favourable  to  the  presbyterian  organization  of  the  Church. 
Hampden  and  Hollis,  as  well  as  some  others,  it  appears, 
would  have  given  the  preference  to  a  moderate  episcopa- 
cy, confined  strictly  to  ecclesiastical  functions,  with  a 
greater  extent  of  liberty  of  conscience.  They  were 
obliged,  however,  to  give  way,  as  they  could  do  nothing 
without  the  assistance  of  their  fanatical  allies. 

The  third  party,  going  much  beyond  these  two,  declared 
that  a  change  was  required  not  only  in  the  form,  but  also 
in  the  foundation  of  the  government ;  that  its  constitution 
was  radically  vicious  and  bad.  This  party  paid  no  re- 
spect to  the  past  life  of  England ;  it  renounced  her  insti- 
tutions, it  swept  away  all  national  remembrances,  it  threw 
down  the  whole  fabric  of  English  government,  that  it 
might  build  up  another  founded  on  pure  theory,  or  at  least 
one  that  existed  only  in  its  own  fancy.  It  aimed  not 
merely  at  a  revolution  in  the  government,  but  at  a  com- 
plete revolution  of  the  whole  social  system.  The  party 
of  which  I  have  just  spoken,  the  political-revolutionary 
party,  proposed  to  make  a  great  change  in  the  relations 
in  which  the  parliament  stood  with  the  crown  ;  it  wished 
to  extend  the  power  of  the  two  houses,  particularly  of  the 
commons,  by  giving  to  it  the  nomination  of  the  great  of- 
ficers of  state,  and  the  supreme  direction  of  affairs  in  gen- 
eral ;  but  its  notions  of  reform  scarcely  went  beyond  this. 
It  had  no  idea,  for  example,  of  changing  the  electoral  sys- 
tem, the  judicial  system,  the  administrative  and  municipal 
systems  of  the  country.  The  republican  party  contem- 
plated all  these  changes,  dwelt  upon  their  necessity, 
wished,  in  a  word,  to  reform  not  only  the  public  adminis- 
tration, but  the  relations  of  society,  and  the  distribution 
of  private  rights. 


312  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Like  the  two  preceding,  this  party  was  composed  of  a 
religious  sect,  and  a  political  sect.  Its  political  portion 
were  the  genuine  republicans,  the  theorists,  Ludlow,  Har- 
rington, Milton,  &c.  To  these  may  be  added  the  repub- 
licans of  circumstance,  of  interest,  such  as  the  principal 
officers  of  the  army,  Ireton,  Cromwell,  Lambert,  &c.,  who 
were  more  or  less  sincere  at  the  beginning  of  their  career, 
but  weve  soon  controlled  and  guided  by  personal  motives 
and  the  force  of  circumstances.  Under  the  banners  of 
this  party  marched  the  religious  republicans,  all  those 
religious  sects  which  would  acknowledge  no  power  as 
legitimate  but  that  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  who,  awaiting  his 
second  coming,  desired  only  the  government  of  his  elect. 
Finally,  in  the  train  of  this  party  followed  a  mixed  assem- 
blage of  subordinate  free-thinkers,  fanatics,  and  levellers, 
some  hoping  for  license,  some  for  an  equal  distribution  of 
property,  and  others  for  universal  suffrage. 

In  1653,  after  twelve  years  of  struggle,  all  these  parties 
had  successively  appeared  and  failed ;  they  appear  at 
least  to  have  thought  so,  and  the  public  was  sure  of  it. 
The  legal  reform  party  quickly  disappeared  ;  it  saw  the 
old  constitution  and  laws  insulted,  trampled  under  foot, 
and  innovations  forcing  their  way  on  every  side.  The 
political-revolutionary  party  saw  the  destruction  of  par- 
liamentary forms  in  the  new  use  which  it  was  proposed  to 
make  of  them — it  had  seen  the  house  of  commons  reduced, 
by  the  successive  expulsions  of  royalists  and  presby- 
terians,  to  a  few  members,  despised,  detested  by  the 
public,  and  incapable  of  governing.  The  republican  party 
appeared  to  have  succeeded  better  ;  it  seemed  to  be  left 
master  of  the  field  and  of  power :  the  house  of  commons  con- 
sisted of  but  fifty  or  sixty  members,  all  republicans.  They 
might  fancy  themselves,  and  call  themselves,  the  rulers 
of  the  country ,  but  the  country  rejected  their  govern- 
ment;  they  were   nowhere  obeyed;  they  had  no  power 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EtJROrE.  313 

either  over  the  army  or  the  nation.  No  social  bond,  no 
Bocial  security  was  now  left ;  justice  was  no  longer  ad- 
ministered, or  if  it  was,  it  was  controlled  by  passion, 
chance,  or  party.  Not  only  was  there  no  security  in  the 
relations  of  private  life,  but  the  highways  were  covered 
with  robbers  and  companies  of  brigands.  Anarchy  in 
every  part  of  the  civil,  as  well  as  of  the  moral  world, 
prevailed  ;  and  neither  the  House  of  Commons,  nor  the 
republican  Council  of  State,  had  the  power  to  restrain  it. 
Thus,  the  three  great  parties  which  had  brought  about 
the  revolution,  and  which  in  their  turn  had  been  called  upon 
to  conduct  it ; — had  been  called  upon  to  govern  the  coun- 
try according  to  their  principles  and  their  will — had  all 
signally  failed.  They  could  do  nothing — they  could  set- 
tle nothing.  "  Now  it  was,"  says  Bossuet,  "that  a  man 
was  found  who  left  nothing  to  fortune,  which  he  could  gain 
by  counsel  and  foresight ;"  a  remark  which  has  no  foun- 
dation whatever  in  truth,  and  which  every  part  of  history 
contradicts.  No  man  ever  left  more  to  fortune  than  Crom- 
well. No  one  ever  risked  more — no  one  ever  pushed  for- 
ward more  rashly,  without  design,  without  an  aim,  yet 
determined  to  go  as  far  as  fate  Avould  carry  him.  Un- 
bounded ambition,  and  admirable  tact  for  drawing  from 
every  day,  from  every  circumstance,  some  new  progress 
— the  art  of  profiting  by  fortune  without  seeming  ever  to 
possess  the  desire  to  constrain  it,  formed  the  character 
of  Cromwell.  In  one  particular  his  career  was  singular, 
and  differs  from  that  of  every  individual  with  whom  we 
are  apt  to  compare  him:  he  adapted  himself  to  all  the 
\'arious  changes,  numerous  as  they  were,  as  well  as  to  the 
state  of  things  they  led  to  of  the  revolution.  He  appears 
a  prominent  character  in  every  scene,  from  the  rise  of  the 
curtain  to  the  close  of  the  piece.  He  was  now  the  insti- 
gator of  the  insurrection— now  the  abettor  of  anarchy — 
now  the  most  fiery  of  the  revolutionists  — now  the  restorer 
of  order  and  social  re-organization  j  thus  playing  himself 
27 


314  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 

all  the  principal  parts  which,  in  the  common  run  of  revo- 
lutions, are  usually  distributed  among  the  greatest  actors. 
He  was  not  a  Mirabeau,  for  he  failed  in  eloquence,  and, 
though  very  active,  he  made  no  great  figure  in  the  first 
years  of  the  long  parliament.  But  he  was  successively 
Danton  and  Buonaparte.  Cromwell  did  more  than  any 
one  to  overthrow  authority ;  he  raised  it  up  again,  be- 
cause there  was  no  other  than  he  that  could  take  it  and 
manage  it.  The  country  required  a  ruler  j  all  others 
failed,  and  he  succeeded.  This  was  his  title.  Once  mas- 
ter of  the  government,  Cromwell,  whose  boundless  ambi- 
tion had  exerted  itself  so  vigorously,  who  had  so  con- 
stantly pushed  fortune  before  him,  and  seemed  deter- 
mined never  to  stop  in  his  career,  displayed  a  good  sense, 
a  prudence,  a  knowledge  of  how  much  was  possible, 
which  overruled  his  most  violent  passions.  There  can 
be  no  doubt  of  his  extreme  fondness  for  absolute  power, 
nor  of  his  desire  to  place  the  crown  upon  his  own  head 
and  keep  it  in  his  family.  He  saw  the  peril  of  this  latter 
design  and  renounced  it ;  and  though,  in  fact,  he  did  ex- 
ercise absolute  authority,  he  saw  very  well  that  the  spirit 
of  the  times  would  not  bear  it ;  that  the  revolution  which 
he  had  helped  to  bring  about,  which  he  had  followed 
through  all  its  phases,  had  been  directed  against  despot- 
ism, and  that  the  uncontrollable  will  of  England  was  to 
be  governed  by  a  parliament  and  parliamentary  forms. 
He  endeavoured,  therefore,  despot  as  he  was,  by  taste 
and  by  deeds,  to  govern  by  a  parliament.  For  this  pur- 
pose he  had  recourse  to  all  the  various  parties  j  he  tried 
to  form  a  parliament  from  the  religious  enthusiasts,  from 
the  republicans,  from  the  presbyterians,  and  from  the 
officers  of  the  army.  He  tried  every  means  to  obtain  a 
parliament  able  and  willing  to  take  part  with  him  in  the  ' 
government ;  but  he  tried  in  vain ;  every  party,  the  mo- 
ment it  was  seated  in  St.  Stephen's,  endeavoured  to  Avrest 
from  him  the  authority  which  he  exercised,  and  to  rule 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  315 

in  its  turn.  I  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  his  personal  in- 
terest, the  gratification  of  his  darling  ambition,  was  his 
first  care  ;  but  it  is  no  less  certain  that  if  he  had  abdi- 
cated his  authority  one  day,  he  would  have  been  obliged 
to  resume  it  the  next.  Puritans  or  royalists,  republicans 
or  officers,  thert  was  no  one  but  Cromwell  who  was  in  a 
state  at  this  time  to  govern  with  any  thing  like  order  or 
justice.  The  experiment  had  been  made.  It  seemed  ab- 
surd to  think  of  leaving  to  parliaments,  that  is  to  say,  to 
the  faction  sitting  in  parliament,  a  government  which 
it  could  not  maintain.  Such  was  the  extraordinary  sit- 
uation of  Cromwell :  he  governed  by  a  system  which  he 
knew  very  well  was  foreign  and  hateful  to  the  country,  he 
exercised  an  authority  which  was  acknowledged  necessa- 
ry by  all,  but  which  was  acceptable  to  none.  No  party 
looked  upon  his  domination  as  a  definitive  government. 
Royalists,  presbytsrians,  republicans,  even  the  army  itself, 
which  appears  to  have  been  the  party  most  devoted  to 
Cromwell,  all  looked  upon  his  rule  as  transitorj^  He  had 
no  hold  upon  the  affections  of  the  people  ;  he  was  never 
more  than  o.  pis-all er^  a  last  resort,  a  temporary  necessity. 
The  protector,  the  absolute  master  of  England,  was  obliged 
all  his  life  to  have  recourse  to  force  to  preserve  his  power  j 
no  party  could  govern  so  well  as  he,  but  no  party  liked  to 
see  the  government  in  his  hands  :  he  was  repeatedly 
attacked  by  them  all  at  once. 

Upon  Cromwell's  death,  there  was  no  party  in  a  situation 
to  seize  upon  the  government  except  the  republicans  ;  they 
did  seize  upon  it,  but  with  no  better  success  than  before. 
This  happened  from  no  lack  of  confidence,  at  least,  in  the 
enthusiasts  of  the  party.  A  spirited  and  talented  tract, 
published  at  this  juncture  by  Milton,  is  entitled  "  A  Ready 
and  Easy  Way  to  establish  a  free  Commonwealth."  You 
may  judge  of  the  blindness  of  these  men,  who  soon  fell 
into  a  state  which  showed  that  it  was  quite  as  impossible 
for  them  to  carry  on  the  government  now  as  it  had  beeu 


316  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

before.  Monk  undertook  the  direction  of  that  event  which 
all  England  now  seemed  anxious  for.  The  Kestoration 
was  accomplished. 

The  restoration  of  the  Stuarts  was  an  event  generally 
pleasing  to  the  nation.  It  brought  back  a  government 
which  still  dwelt  in  its  memory,  which  was  founded  upon 
its  ancient  traditions,  while  at  the  same  time,  it  had  some 
of  the  advantages  of  a  new  government,  in  that  it  had  not 
recently  been  tried,  in  that  its  faults  and  its  power  had  not 
lately  been  felt.  The  ancient  monarchy  was  the  only  sys- 
tem of  government  which  had  not  been  decried,  within 
the  last  twenty  years,  for  its  abuses  and  want  of  capacity 
in  the  administration  of  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom.  From 
these  two  causes  the  restoration  was  extremely  popular; 
it  was  unopposed  by  any  but  the  dregs  of  the  most  violent 
factions,  while  the  public  rallied  round  it  wath  great  sin- 
cerity. All  parties  in  the  country  seemed  now  to  believe 
that  this  offered  the  only  chance  left  of  a  stable  and  legal 
government,  and  this  was  what,  above  all  things,  the  na- 
tion now  desired.  This  also  was  what  the  restoration 
seemed  especially  to  promise  ;  it  took  much  pains  to  pre- 
sent itself  under  the  aspect  of  legal  government. 

The  first  royalist  party,  indeed,  to  whom,  upon  the  re- 
turn of  Charles  the  Second,  the  management  of  affairs 
was  intrusted,  was  the  legal  party,  represented  by  its  able 
leader,  the  Lord  Chancellor  Clarendon.  From  1660  to 
1667,  Clarendon  was  prime  minister,  and  had  the  chief 
direction  of  affairs  :  he  and  his  friends  brought  back  with 
them  their  ancient  principles  of  government,  the  absolute 
sovereignty  of  the  king,  kept  within  legal  bounds,  limited 
by  the  House  of  Commons  as  regards  taxation,  by  the 
public  tribunals,  in  matters  of  private  right,  or  relating  to 
individual  liberty, — possessing,  nevertheless,  in  point  of 
government,  properly  so  called,  an  almost  complete  inde- 
pendence, and  the  most  decided  preponderance,  to  the 
exclusion  or  even  in  opposition  to  the  votes  of  the  major- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODEKN    EUROPE.  317 

ities  of  the  two  houses,  but  particularly  to  that  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  In  other  matters  there  was  not  much  to 
complain  of:  a  tolerable  degree  of  respect  was  paid  to 
legal  order  ;  there  was  a  tolerable  degree  of  solicitude  for 
the  national  interests  ;  a  sufficiently  noble  sentiment  of 
national  dignity  was  preserved,  and  a  colour  of  morality 
that  was  grave  and  honourable.  Such  was  the  character 
of  Clarendon's  administration  during  the  seven  years  the 
government  was  committed  to  his  charge. 

But  the  fundamental  principles  upon  which  this  admin- 
istration was  based — the  absolute  sovereignty  of  the  king, 
and  a  government  beyond  the  preponderating  control  of 
parliament — were  now  become  old  and  powerless.  Not- 
withstanding the  temporary  reaction  which  took  place  at 
the  first  burst  of  the  restoration,  twenty  years  of  parlia- 
mentary rule  against  royalty  had  destroyed  them  for  ever. 
A  new  party  soon  showed  itself  among  the  royalists  ;  lib- 
ertines, profligates,  wretches,  who  imbued  with  the  free 
opinions  of  the  times,  and  seeing  that  power  was  with  the 
commons, — caring  themselves  but  little  about  legal  order, 
or  the  absolute  power  of  the  king, — were  only  anxious  for 
success,  and  to  discover  the  means  of  influence  and  power 
in  whatever  quarter  they  were  likely  to  be  found.  These 
formed  a  party,  and  allying  themselves  with  the  national, 
discontented  party.  Clarendon  was  discarded. 

A  new  system  of  government  now  took  place  under 
that  portion  of  the  royalists  I  have  just  described  ;  profli- 
gates and  libertines  formed  the  administration  of  the  Ca- 
bal, and  several  others  which  followed  it.  What  was  their 
character  %  Without  inquietude  respecting  principles, 
laws,  or  rights,  or  care  for  justice  or  truth  ;  they  sought 
the  means  of  success  upon  every  occasion,  whatever  these 
means  might  be  ;  if  success  depended  on  the  influence  of 
the  commons,  the  commons  were  every  thing ;  if  it  was 
necessary  to  cajole  the  commons,  the  commons  were  ca- 
joled without  scruple,  even  though  they  had  to  apologize 

27* 


318  GfeNKRAL    HlSTOR-y    OP' 

to  them  the  next  day.  At  one  moment  they  attempted 
corruption,  at  another  they  flattered  the  national  wishes  ; 
no  regard  was  shown  for  the  general  interests  of  the 
country,  for  its  dignity  or  its  honour  ;  in  a  w  ord,  it  w^as  a 
government  profoundly  selfish  and  immoral,  totally  unac- 
quainted with  all  theory,  principle,  or  public  object ;  but, 
withal,  in  the  practical  management  of  affairs,  showing 
considerable  intelligence  and  liberality.  Such  was  the 
character  of  the  Cabal  ministry,  of  Earl  Danby's,  and  of 
the  English  government  from  1667  to  1679.  Yet  not- 
withstanding its  immorality,  notwithstanding  its  disdain 
of  all  principle,  and  of  the  true  interests  of  the  country, 
this  government  was  not  so  unpopular,  not  so  odious  to 
the  nation  as  that  of  Clarendon  ;  and  this  simply  because 
it  adapted  itself  better  to  the  times,  better  understood  the 
sentiments  of  the  people,  even  while  it  derided  them.  It 
Avas  neither  foreign  nor  antiquated,  like  that  of  Clarendon  ; 
and  though  infinitely  more  dangerous  to  the  country,  the 
people  accommodated  themselves  better  to  it. 

But  this  corruption,  this  servility,  this  contempt  of  pub- 
lic rights  and  public  honour,  were  at  last  carried  to  such 
a  pitch  as  to  be  no  longer  supportable.  A  general  outcry 
was  raised  against  this  government  of  profligates.  A 
patriotic  party  supported  by  the  nation,  became  gradu- 
ally formed  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  the  king 
was  obliged  to  take  the  leaders  of  it  into  his  council. 
Lord  Essex,  the  son  of  him  who  had  commanded  the 
first  parliamentary  armies  in  the  civil  war,  Lord  Russel, 
and  Lord  Shaftesbury,  who,  without  any  of  the  virtues 
of  the  other  two,  was  much  their  superior  in  political 
abilities,  w^ere  now  called  to  the  management  of  aflairs. 
The  national  party,  to  whom  the  direction  of  the  gov- 
ernment was  now  committed,  proved  itself  unequal  to 
the  task  :  it  could  not  gain  possession  of  the  moral  force 
of  the  country  :  it  could  neither  manage  the  interests, 
the  habits,  nor  the  prejudices  of  the  king,  of  the  court, 


CIVILlZAriON    IN   MODERN    EUROPE.  3l9 

nor  of  any  with  whom  it  had  to  do.  It  inspired  no 
party,  either  king  or  people,  with  any  confidence  ia 
its  energy  or  ability;  and  after  holding  power  for  a 
short  time,  this  national  ministry  completely  failed.  The 
virtues  of  its  leaders,  their  generous  courage,  the  beauty 
of  their  death,  have  raised  them  to  a  distinguished  niche 
in  the  temple  of  fame,  and  entitled  them  to  honour- 
able mention  in  the  page  of  history ;  but  their  political 
capacities  in  no  way  corresponded  to  their  virtues :  they 
could  not  wield  power,  though  they  could  withstand  its 
corrupting  influence,  nor  could  they  achieve  a  triumph  for 
that  glorious  cause,  for  which  they  could  so  nobly  die ! 

The  failure  of  this  attempt  left  the  English  restoration 
in  rather  an  awkward  plight ;  it  had,  like  the  English 
revolution,  in  a  manner  tried  all  parties  without  success. 
The  legal  ministry,  the  corrupt  ministry,  the  national 
ministry,  having  all  failed,  the  country  and  the  court 
were  nearly  in  the  same  situation  as  that  which  England 
had  been  in  before,  at  the  dlose  of  the  revolutionary 
troubles  in  1653.  Recourse  was  had  to  the  same  expedi- 
ent :  what  Cromwell  had  turned  to  the  profit  of  the  revo- 
lution, Charles  II.  now  turned  to  the  profit  of  the  crown  j 
he  entered  upon  a  career  of  absolute  power. 

James  II.  succeeded  his  brother  ;  and  another  question 
now  became  mixed  up  with  that  of  despotism  :  the  ques- 
tion of  religion.  James  II.  wished  to  achieve,  at  the  same 
time,  a  triumph  for  popery  and  for  absolute  power :  now 
again,  as  at  the  commencement  of  the  revolution,  there  was 
a  religious  struggle  and  apolitical  struggle,  and  both  were 
directed  against  the  government.  It  has  often  been  asked, 
what  course  affairs  would  have  taken  if  William  III.  had 
not  existed,  and  came  over  to  put  an  end  to  the  quarrel 
between  James  and  the  people.  My  firm  belief  is  that  the 
same  event  would  have  taken  place.  All  England,  except 
a  very  small  party,  was  at  this  time  arrayed  against  James; 
and  it  seems  very  certain,  that,  under  some  form  or  other, 


320  GENERAL   HISTORY   OF 

the  revolution  of  1688  must  have  been  accomplished. 
But  at  this  crisis,  causes  even  superior  to  the  internal  state 
of  England  conduced  to  this  event.  It  was  European  as 
well  as  English.  It  is  at  this  point  that  the  English  revo- 
lution links  itself,  by  facts,  and  independently  of  the  influ- 
ence of  its  example,  to  the  general  course  of  European 
civilization. 

While  the  struggle  which  I  have  just  been  narrating  took 
place  in  England,  the  struggle  of  absolute  power  against 
religious  and  civil  liberty — a  struggle  of  the  same  kind, 
however  different  the  actors,  the  forms  and  the  theatre, 
took  place  upon  the  continent — a  struggle  which  was  at 
bottom  the  same  and  carried  on  in  the  same  cause.  The 
pure  monarchy  of  Louis  XIV.  attempted  to  become  univer- 
sal monarchy,  at  least  it  gave  the  world  every  reason  to 
fear  it ;  and,  in  fact,  Europe  did  fear  it.  A  league  was 
formed  in  Europe  between  various  political  parties  to  re- 
sist this  attempt,  and  the  chief  of  this  league  was  the  chief 
of  the  party  that  struggled  for  the  civil  and  religious  lib- 
erty of  Europe — William,  Prince  of  Orange.  The  pro- 
testant  republic  of  Holland,  with  William  at  its  head,  had 
made  a  stand  against  pure  monarchy,  represented  and  con- 
ducted by  Louis  XIV.  The  fight  here  was  not  for  civil 
and  religious  liberty  in  the  interior  of  states,  but  for  the 
interior  independence  of  the  states  themselves.  Louis 
XIV.  and  his  adversaries  never  thought  of  debating  the 
questions  which  were  debated  so  fiercely  in  England. 
This  struggle  was  not  one  of  parties,  but  of  states  ;  it  was 
carried  on,  not  by  political  outbreaks  and  revolutions,  but 
by  war  and  negotiation  ;  still,  at  bottom,  the  same  princi- 
ple was  the  subject  of  contention. 

It  happened,  then,  that  the  strife  between  absolute  power 
and  liberty,  which  James  II.  renewed  in  England,  broke 
out  at  the  very  moment  that  this  general  struggle  was  going 
on  in  Europe  between  Louis  XIV.  and  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
the  representatives  of  these  two  great  systems,  as  well  in  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  321 

affairs  which  took  place  on  the  Thames  as  on  the  Scheldt. 
The  league  against  Louis  was  so  powerful  that  many 
sovereigns  entered  into  it,  either  publicly,  or  in  an  under- 
hand, though  very  effective  manner,  who  were  rather  op- 
posed than  not  to  the  interests  of  civil  and  religious  liberty. 
The  Emperor  of  Germany  and  Innocent  XL  boih  sup- 
ported William  against  France.  And  William  crossed  the 
channel  to  England  less  to  serve  the  internal  interests  of 
the  country,  than  to  draw  il  entirely  into  the  struggle 
against  Louis.  He  laid  hold  of  this  kingdom  as  a  new 
force  which  he  wanted,  but  of  which  his  adversary  had 
had  the  disposal,  up  to  this  time  against  him.  So  lonp-  as 
Charles  IL  and  James  II.  reigned,  England  belonged  to 
Louis  XIV. ;  he  had  the  disposal  of  it,  and  had  kept  it  em- 
ployed against  Holland.  England  then  was  snatched  from 
the  side  of  absolute  and  universal  monarchy,  to  become 
the  most  powerful  support  and  instrument  of  civil  and 
religious  liberty.  This  is  the  view  which  must  be  taken, 
as  regards  European  civilization,  of  the  revolution  of 
1688  ;  it  is  this  which  gives  it  a  place  in  the  assemblage 
of  European  events,  independently  of  the  influence  of  its 
example,  and  of  the  vast  efiect  which  it  had  upon  the 
minds  and  opinions  of  men  in  the  following  century. 

Thus,  I  think,  I  have  rendered  it  clear,  that  the  true 
sense,  the  essential  character  of  this  revolution  is,  as  I 
said  at  the  outset  of  this  lecture,  an  attempt  to  abolish 
absolute  power  in  the  temporal  order,  as  had  already  been 
done  in  the  spiritual.  This  fact  appears  in  all  the  phases 
of  the  revolution,  from  its  first  outbreak  to  the  restora- 
tion, and  again  in  the  crisis  of  1G88  :  and  this  not  only  as 
regards  its  interior  progress,  but  in  its  relations  with  Eu-* 
rope  in  general. 

It  now  only  remains  for  us  to  study  the  same  great 
event,  the  struggle  of  free  inquiry  and  pure  monarchy,  upon 
the  continent,  or  at  least  the  causes  and  preparation  of  this 
event.    This  will  be  the  object  of  the  next  and  final  lecture. 


322  GENERAL   HISTORY    OF 


LECTURE    XIV. 

THE       FRENCH      REVOLUTION. 

I  ENDEAvorRED,  at  our  last  meeting,  to  ascertain  the  true 
character  and  political  object  of  the  English  revolution. 
We  have  seen  that  it  was  the  first  collision  of  the  two 
great  facts  to  which,  in  the  course  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, all  the  civilization  of  primitive  Europe  tended, — 
monarchy  on  the  one  hand,  and  free  inquiry  on  the  other. 
These  two  powers  came  to  blows,  if  I  may  use  the  expres- 
sion, for  the  first  time  in  England.  It  has  been  attempted, 
from  this  circumstance,  to  deduce  a  radical  difference  be- 
tween the  social  state  of  England  and  that  of  the  Conti- 
nent ;  it  has  been  contended,  that  no  comparison  could  be 
made  between  countries  so  differently  situated  ;  and  it 
has  been  affirmed,  that  the  English  people  had  lived  in  a 
sort  of  moral  separation  from  the  rest  of  Europe,  analo- 
gous to  its  physical  insulation. 

It  is  true,  that  between  the  civilization  of  England,  and 
that  of  the  continental  states,  there  has  been  a  material 
difference  which  it  is  important  that  we  should  rightly  un- 
derstand. You  have  already  had  a  glimpse  of  it  in  the 
course  of  these  lectures.  The  development  of  the  different 
principles,  the  different  elements  of  society,  took  place,  in 
some  measure,  at  the  same  time,  at  least  much  more  sim- 
ultaneously than  upon  the  Continent.  When  I  endeavoured 
to  determine  the  complexion  of  European  civilization  as 
compared  wih  the  civilization  of  Ancient  and  Asiatic  na- 
tions, I  showed  that  the  former  was  varied,  rich  and  com- 
plex, and  that  it  had  never  fallen  under  the  influence  of  any 
exclusive  principle  3  that,  in  it,  the  different  elements  of  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN   MODERN    EUROPE.  323 

social  state  had  combined,  contended  with,  and  modified 
each  other,  and  had  continually  been  obliged  to  come  to 
an  accommodation,  and  to  subsist  together.  This  fact, 
which  forms  the  general  character  of  European  civiliza- 
tion, has  in  an  especial  manner  been  that  of  the  civiliza- 
tion of  England  :  it  is  in  that  country  that  it  has  appeared 
most  evidently  and  uninterruptedly ;  it  is  there  that  the 
civil  and  religious  orders,  aristocracy,  democracy,  mon- 
archy, local  and  central  institutions,  moral  and  political 
development,  have  proceeded  and  grown  up  together,  if 
not  with  equal  rapidity,  at  least  but  at  a  little  distance 
from  each  other.  Under  the  reign  of  the  Tudors,  for 
example,  in  the  midst  of  the  most  remarkable  progress  of 
pure  monarchy,  we  have  seen  the  democratic  principle,  the 
popular  power,  make  its  way  and  gain  strength  almost  at 
the  same  time.  The  revolution  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury broke  out ;  it  was  at  the  same  time  religious  and  po- 
litical. The  feudal  aristocracy  appeared  in  it  in  a  very 
enfeebled  state,  and  with  all  the  symptoms  of  decay  j  it 
was,  however,  still  in  a  condition  to  preserve  its  place  in 
this  revolution,  and  to  have  some  share  in  its  results. 
The  same  thing  has  Leen  the  case  in  the  whole  course  of 
English  history ;  no  ancient  element  has  ever  entirely 
perished,  nor  any  new  element  gained  a  total  ascendency  ; 
no  particular  principle  has  ever  obtained  an  exclusive  in- 
fluence. There  has  always  been  a  simultaneous  develop- 
ment of  the  different  forces,  and  a  sort  of  negotiation  or 
compromise  between  their  pretensions  and  interests. 

On  the  continent  the  march  of  civilization  had  been  less 
complex  and  complete.  The  different  elements  of  societjr, 
the  civil  and  religious  orders,  monarchy,  aristocracy,  de- 
mocracy, have  developed  themselves,  not  together,  and 
abreast,  as  it  were,  but  successively.  Every  principle, 
every  system,  has  in  some  neasure  had  its  turn.  One 
age,  for  example,  has  belonged,  I  shall  not  say  exclusively. 


824  GENERAL    HISTORY    Of 

but  with  a  decided  predominance,  to  the  feudal  aristoc- 
racy ;  another  to  the  principle  of  monarchy  ;  another  to 
the  principle  of  democracy.  Compare  the  middle  ages 
in  France,  with  the  middle  ages  in  England  ;  the  eleventh, 
twelfth,  and  thirteenth  centuries  of  our  history  with  the 
corresponding  centuries  on  the  other  side  of  the  channel; 
you  will  find  m  France,  at  that  epoch,  feudalism  in  a  state 
of  almost  absolute  sovereignty^  while  monarchy  and  the 
democratic  principle  scarcely  had  an  existence.  But  turn 
to  England,  and  you  will  find,  that  although  the  feudal 
aristocracy  greatly  predominated  ;  that  monarchy  and 
democracy  possessed,  at  the  same  time,  strength  and  im- 
portance. Monarchy  triumphed  in  England  under  Eliza- 
beth, as  in  France  under  Louis  XIV.  ;  but  what  precau- 
tions it  was  constrained  to  take  !  how  many  restrictions, 
sometimes  aristocratic,  sometimes  democratic,  it  was  obli- 
ged to  submit  to  !  In  England,  everj^  system,  every  prin- 
ciple, has  had  its  time  of  strength  and  success;  but  never 
so  completely  and  exclusively  as  on  the  continent:  the 
conqueror  has  always  been  constrained  to  tolerate  the 
presence  of  his  rivals,  and  to  leave  them  a  certain  share  of 
influence. 

To  this  difference  in  the  march  of  these  two  civilizations 
there  are  attached  advantages  and  inconveniences  which 
are  apparent  in  the  history  of  the  two  countries.  There  is 
no  doubt,  for  example,  that  the  simultaneous  development 
of  the  different  social  elements  has  greatly  contributed  to 
make  England  arrive  more  quickly  than  any  of  the  conti- 
nental states,  at  the  end  and  aim  of  all  society,  that  is  to 
say,  the  establishment  of  a  government  at  once  regular  and 
free.  It  is  the  very  nature  of  a  government  to  respect  all 
the  interests,  all  the  powers  of  the  state,  to  conciliate  them 
and  make  them  live  and  prosper  in  common:  now  such 
was,  beforehand,  and  by  the  concurrence  of  a  multitude  of 
causes,  the  despotism  and  mutual  relation  of  the  different 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  325 

elements  of  English  society  ;  and,  therefore,  a  general  and 
somewhat  regular  government  had  the  less  difficulty  in 
establishing  itself.  In  like  manner  the  essence  of  liberty 
is  the  simultaneous  manifestation  and  action  of  every  in- 
terest, every  kind  of  right,  every  force,  every  social  ele- 
ment. England,  therefore,  had  made  a  nearer  approach 
to  liberty  than  most  other  states.  From  the  same  causes, 
national  good  sense  and  intelligence  of  public  affairs  must 
.have  formed  themselves  more  quickly  than  elsewhere  j 
political  good  sense  consists  in  understanding  and  appre- 
ciating every  fact,  and  in  assigning  to  each  its  proper  part ; 
in  England  it  has  been  a  necessary  consequence  of  the 
state  of  society,  a  natural  result  of  the  course  of  civili- 
zation. 

In  the  states  of  the  Continent,  on  the  contrary,  every 
system,  every  principle,  having  had  its  turn,  and  having 
had  a  more  complete  and  exclusive  ascendency,  the  de- 
velopment took  place  on  a  larger  scale,  and  with  more 
striking  circumstances.  Monarchy  and  feudal  aristocracy, 
for  example,  appeared  on  the  continental  stage  with  more 
boldness,  extent,  and  freedom.  Every  political  experiment, 
so  to  speak,  was  broader  and  more  complete.  The  re- 
sult was,  that  political  ideas — I  speak  of  general  ideas,  and 
not  of  good  sense  applied  to  the  conduct  of  affairs ;  that 
political  ideas  and  doctrines  took  a  greater  elevation,  and 
displayed  themselves  with  much  greater  rational  vigour. 
Every  system  having,  in  some  sort,  presented  itself  singly, 
and  having  remained  a  long  time  on  the  stage,  people  could 
contemplate  it  in  its  general  aspect,  ascend  to  its  first 
principles,  pursue  it  into  its  remotest  consequences,  and 
lay  bare  its  entire  theory.  Whoever  observes  with  some 
degree  of  attention  the  genius  of  the  English  nation,  will 
be  struck  with  a  double  fact ;  on  the  one  hand,  its  steady 
good  sense  and  practical  ability  ;  on  the  other,  its  w^ant  of 
general  ideas  and  of  elevation  of  thought  upon  theoretical 

28 


326  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

questions.  Whether  we  open  an  English  work  on  history, 
jurisprudence,  or  any  other  subject,  we  rarely  find  the 
great  and  fundamental  reason  of  things.  In  every  subject, 
and  especially  in  the  political  sciences,  pure  philosophical 
doctrines — science  properly  so  called — have  prospered 
much  more  on  the  continent,  than  in  England  ;  their  flights, 
at  least,  have  been  bolder  and  more  vigorous.  Indeed  it 
cannot  be  doubted  that  the  different  character  of  the  de- 
velopment of  civilization  in  the  two  countries  has  greatly 
contributed  to  this  result. 

At  all  events,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  incon- 
veniences or  advantages  which  have  been  produced  by 
this  difference,  it  is  a  real  and  incontestable  fact,  and 
that  which  most  essentially  distinguishes  England  from 
the  Continent.  But,  though  the  difTerent  principles,  the 
different  social  elements,  have  developed  themselves  more 
simultaneously  there,  and  more  successively  in  France,  it 
does  not  follow  that,  at  bottom,  the  road  and  the  goal  have 
not  been  the  same.  Considered  generally,  the  continent 
and  England  have  gone  through  the  same  great  phases 
of  civilization  ;  events  have  followed  the  same  course  ; 
similar  causes  have  led  to  similar  effects.  You  may  have 
convinced  yourselves  of  this  by  the  view  I  have  given  you 
of  civilization  down  to  the  sixteenth  century  ;  you  will 
remark  it  no  less  in  studying  the  seventeenth  and  eigh- 
teenth centuries.  The  development  of  free  inquiry,  and 
that  of  pure  monarchy,  almost  simultaneous  in  England, 
were  accomplished  on  the  Continent  at  pretty  long  inter- 
vals ;  but  they  were  accomplished  ;  and  these  two  powers, 
after  having  successively  exercised  a  decided  predomi- 
nance, came  also  into  collision.  The  general  march  of 
society,  then,  on  the  whole,  has  been  the  same  ;  and, 
though  the  differences  are  real,  the  resemblance  is  still 
greater.  A  rapid  sketch  of  modern  times  will  leave  you 
no  doubt  on  this  subject. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  327 

The  moment  we  cast  our  eyes  on  the  history  of  Europe 
hi  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  we  cannot  fail 
to  perceive  that  France  marches  at  the  head  of  European 
civilization.  At  the  beginning  of  this  course,  I  strongly 
affirmed  this  fact,  and  endeavoured  to  point  out  its  cause. 
We  shall  now  find  it  more  strikingly  displayed  than  it  has 
ever  been  before. 

The  principle  of  pure  and  absolute  monarchy  had  pre- 
dominated in  Spain,  under  Charles  V.  and  Philip  II.,  before 
its  development  in  France  under  Louis  XIV.  In  like 
manner  the  principle  of  free  inquiry  had  reigned  in  Eng- 
land in  the  seventeenth  century,  before  its  development  in 
France  in  the  eighteenth.  Pure  monarchy,  however,  did 
not  go  forth  from  Spain,  nor  free  inquiry  from  England,  to 
make  the  conquest  of  Europe.  The  two  principles  or  sys- 
tems remained,  in  some  sort,  confined  within  the  coun- 
tries in  which  they  sprang  up.  They  required  to  pass 
through  France  to  extend  their  dominion  ;  pure  monarchy 
and  liberty  of  inquiry  were  compelled  to  become  French 
before  they  could  become  European.  That  communicative 
character  of  French  civilization,  that  social  genius  of 
France,  which  has  displayed  itself  at  every  period,  was 
peculiarly  conspicuous  at  the  period  which  now  engages 
our  attention.  I  shall  not  dwell  upon  this  fact ;  it  has  been 
expounded  to  you,  with  equal  force  of  argument  and  bril- 
liancy, in  the  lectures  in  which  your  attention  has  been 
directed  to  the  influence  of  the  literature  and  philosophy 
of  France  in  the  eighteenth  century.  You  have  seen  how 
the  philosophy  of  France  had,  in  regard  to  liberty,  more 
influence  on  Europe  than  the  liberty  of  England.  You  have 
seen  how  French  civilization  showed  itself  much  more  ac- 
tive and  contagious  than  that  of  any  other  country.  I  have 
no  occasion,  therefore,  to  dwell  upon  the  details  of  this 
fact ;  I  avail  myself  of  it  only  in  order  to  make  it  my  ground 
for  making  France  comprehend  the  picture  of  modern  Eu- 


328  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

ropean  civilization.  There  were,  no  doubt,  between  French 
civilization  at  this  period,  and  that  of  the  other  states  of 
Europe,  differences  on  which  I  ought  to  lay  great  stress,  if 
it  were  my  intention  at  present  to  enter  fully  into  this 
subject ;  but  I  must  proceed  so  rapidly,  that  I  am  obliged 
to  pass  over  whole  nations,  and  whole  ages.  I  think  it 
better  to  confine  your  attention  to  the  course  of  French 
civilization,  as  being  an  image,  though  an  imperfect  one, 
of  the  general  course  of  things  in  Europe. 

The  influence  of  France  in  Europe,  in  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries,  appears  under  very  different  as- 
pects. In  the  first  of  these  centuries,  it  was  the  French 
government  which  acted  upon  Europe,  and  took  the  lead 
in  the  march  of  general  civilization.  In  the  second,  it  was 
no  longer  to  the  French  government,  but  to  the  French 
society,  to  France  herself,  that  the  preponderance  belong- 
ed. It  was  at  first  Louis  XIV.  and  his  court,  and  then 
France  herself,  and  her  public  opinion,  that  attracted  the 
attention,  and  swayed  the  minds  of  the  rest  of  Europe. 
There  were,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  nations,  who,  as 
such,  made  a  more  prominent  appearance  on  the  stage,  and 
took  a  greater  share  in  the  course  of  events,  than  the 
French  nation.  Thus,  during  the  thirty  years'  war,  the 
German  nation,  and  the  revolution  of  England,  the  Eng- 
lish nation  played,  within  their  respective  spheres,  a  much 
greater  part  than  the  French  nation,  at  that  period,  played 
within  theirs.  In  the  eighteenth  century,  in  like  manner, 
there  were  stronger,  more  respected,  and  more  formidable 
governments  than  that  of  France.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
Frederick  II.  and  Maria  Theresa  had  more  activity  and 
weight  in  Europe  than  Louis  XV.  Still,  at  both  of  these 
periods,  France  was  at  the  head  of  European  civilization, 
first  through  her  government,  and  afterwards  through  her- 
self ;  at  one  time  through  the  political  action  of  her  rulers, 
at  another  through  her  own  intellectual  development.  To 


CIVILIZATION    IN   MODERN    EUROPE.  329 

understand  thoroughly  the  predominent  infiuence  on  the 
course  of  civilization  in  France,  and  consequently  in 
Europe,  we  must  therefore  study,  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, the  French  government,  and  in  the  eighteenth,  the 
French  nation.  We  must  change  our  ground  and  our 
objects  of  view,  according  as  time  changes  the  scene  and 
the  actors. 

Whenever  the  government  of  Louis  XIV.  is  spoken  of, 
whenever  we  attempt  to  appreciate  the  causes  of  his 
power  and  influence  in  Europe,  we  have  little  to  consider 
beyond  his  splendour,  his  conquests,  his  magnificence, 
and  the  literary  glory  of  his  time.  We  must  resort  to 
exterior  causes  in  order  to  account  for  the  preponderance 
of  the  French  government  in  Europe. 

But  this  preponderance,  in  my  opinion,  was  derived 
from  causes  more  deeply  seated^  from  motives  of  a  more 
serious  kind.  We  m.ust  not  believe  that  it  was  entirely 
by  means  of  victories,  festivals,  or  even  master-pieces  of 
genius,  that  Louis  XIV.  and  his  government  played,  at 
that  period,,  the  part  which  no  one  can  deny  them. 

Many  of  you  may  remember,  and  all  of  you  have  heard 
of,  the  effect  which,  twenty-nine  years  ago,  was  produced 
by  the  consular  government  in  France,  and  the  state  in 
Avhich  it  found  our  country.  Abroad,  foreign  invasion 
impending,  and  continual  disasters  in  our  armies  ;  at  home, 
the  elements  of  government  and  society  in  a  state  of  dis- 
solution ;  no  revenues,  no  public  order  ;  in  short,  a  people 
beaten,  humbled  and  disorganized — siich  was  France  at 
the  accession  of  the  consular  government.  Who  is  there 
that  does  not  remember  the  prodigious  and  successful 
activity  of  that  government,  an  aativity  which,  in  a  short 
time,  secured  the  independence  of  our  territory,  revived 
our  national  honour,  re-organized  the  administration  of 
government,  re-modelled  o«r  legislation,  in  short,  gave 
society,  as  it  were,  a  new  life  under  the  hand  of  power,  1 
28* 


330  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Well — the  government  of  Louis  XIV.,  when  it  began, 
did  something  of  the  same  kind  for  France  ;  with  great 
differences  of  times,  of  proceedings,  and  of  forms,  it  pro- 
secuted and  attained  very  nearly  the  same  results. 

Remember  the  state  into  which  France  had  fallen  after 
the  government  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  and  during  the 
minority  of  Louis  XIV. :  the  Spanish  armies  always  on 
the  frontiers,  and  sometimes  in  the  interior  ;  continual 
danger  of  invasion  ;  internal  dissensions  carried  to  extre- 
mity, civil  war,  the  government  weak,  and  decried  both  at 
home  and  abroad.  There  never  was  a  more  miserable 
policy,  more  despised  in  Europe,  or  more  powerless  in 
France,  than  that  of  Cardinal  Mazarin.  In  a  word,  socie^ 
ty  was  in  a  state,  less  violent  perhaps,  but  very  analogous 
to  ours  before  the  18th  of  Brumaire.  It  was  from  that 
state  that  the  government  of  Louis  XIV.  delivered  France. 
His  earliest  victories  had  the  effect  of  the  victory  of  Ma- 
rengo ;  they  secured  the  French  territory  and  revived  the 
national  honour.  I  am  going  to  consider  this  government 
under  its  various  aspects,  in  its  wars,  its  foreign  relations, 
its  administration,  and  its  legislation  ;  and  you  will  see,  I 
believe,  that  the  comparison  which  I  speak  of,  and  to 
which  I  do  not  wish  to  attach  a  puerile  importance,  (for  I 
care  very  little  about  historical  comparisons,)  you  will  see, 
I  say,  that  this  comparison  has  a  real  foundation,  and  that 
I  am  fully  justified  in  making  it. 

I  shall  first  speak  of  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV.  European 
wars  were  originally  (as  you  know,^  and  as  I  have  several 
times  had  occasion  to  remind  you)  great  popular  move- 
ments ;  impelled  by  want,  by  some  fancy,  or  any  other 
cause,  whole  populations,  sometimes  numerous,  sometimes 
consisting  of  mere  bands,  passed  from  one  territory  to 
another.  This  was  the  general  character  of  European 
wars,  till  after  the  crusades,  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth 
century. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  331 

After  this  another  kind  of  war  arose,  but  almost  equally 
different  from  the  wars  of  modern  times  :  these  were  distant 
wars,  undertaken,  not  by  nations,  but  by  their  governing 
powers,  who  went,  at  the  head  of  their  armies,  to  seek,  at  a 
distance,  states  and  adventures.  They  quitted  their  coun- 
try, abandoned  their  oa^ti  territory,  and  penetrated,  some 
into  Germany,  others  into  Italy,  and  others  into  Africa, 
with  no  other  motive  save  their  individual  fancy.  Almost 
all  the  wars  of  the  fifteenth,  and  even  a  part  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  are  of  this  character.  What  interest — 
and  I  do  not  speak  of  a  legitimate  interest — but  what  mo- 
tive had  France  for  wishing  that  Charles  VIII.  should 
possess  the  kingdom  of  Naples  1  It  was  evidently  a  war 
dictated  by  no  political  considerations  ;  the  king  thought 
he  had  personal  claims  on  the  kingdom  of  Naples ;  and, 
for  this  personal  object,  to  satisfy  his  own  personal  desire, 
he  undertook  the  conquest  of  a  distant  country,  which 
was  by  no  means  adapted  to  the  territorial  conveniences  of 
his  kingdom,  but  which,  on  the  contrary,  only  endangered 
his  power  abroad  and  his  repose  at  home.  Such,  again, 
was  the  case  with  regard  to  the  expedition  of  Charles  V. 
into  Africa.  The  last  w^ar  of  this  kind  was  the  expedition 
of  Charles  XII.  against  Russia. 

The  wars  of  Louis  XIV.  were  not  of  this  description; 
they  were  the  wars  of  a  regular  government — a  govern- 
ment fixed  in  the  centre  of  its  dominions,  endeavouring  to 
extend  its  conquests  around,  to  increase  or  consolidate  its 
territory  ;  in  short,  they  were  political  wars.  They  may 
have  been  just  or  unjust^  they  may  have  cost  France 
loo  dear ; — they  may  be  objected  to  on  many  grounds 
— on  the  score  of  morality  or  excess  5  but,  in  fact,  they 
were  of  a  much  more  rational  character  than  the  wars 
which  preceded  them;  they  were  no  longer  fanciful 
adventures;  they  were  dictated  by  serious  motives  ;  their 
objects   were,    to  reach    some   natural   boundary,    some 


232  GENERAL    HISTORY    9F 

population  who  spoke  the  same  language,  and  might  be 
annexed  to  the  kingdom,  some  point  of  defence  against  a 
neighbouring  power.  Personal  ambition,  no  doubt,  had 
a  share  in  them  ;  but  examine  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV., 
one  after  the  other,  especially  those  of  the  early  part  of 
his  reign,  and  you  will  find  that  their  motives  were  really 
political ;  you  will  see  that  they  were  conceived  with  a 
view  to  the  power  and  safety  of  France. 

This  fact  has  been  proved  by  results.  France,  at  the 
present  day,  in  many  respects,  is  what  the  wars  of  Louis> 
XIV.  made  her.  The  provinces  which  he  conquered,, 
Franche-Comte,  Flanders,  and  Alsace,  have  remained  in- 
corporated with  France.  There  are  rational  conquests  as 
well  as  foolish  ones:  those  of  Louis  XIV.  were  rational ;. 
his  enterprises  have  not  that  unreasonable  capricious  char- 
acter, till  then  so  general ;  their  policy  was  able,  if  not 
always  just  and  prudent. 

If  I  pass  from  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV.  to  his  relations 
with  foreign  states,  to  his  diplomacy  properly  so  called,  I 
find  an  analogous  result.  I  have  already  spoken  of  the 
origin  of  diplomacy  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century.  1 
have  endeavoured  to  show  how  the  mutual  relations  of 
governments  and  states,  previously  accidental,  rare,  and 
transient,  had  at  that  period  become  more  regular  and 
permanent ;  how  they  had  assumed  a  character  of  great 
public  interest  ;  how,  in  short,  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth 
and  during  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  diplo- 
macy had  begun  to  perform  a  part  of  immense  importance 
in  the  course  of  events.  Still,  however,  it  was  not  till 
the  seventeenth  century  that  it  became  really  systematic  ; 
before  then,  it  had  not  brought  about  long  alliances,  great 
combinations,  and  especially  combinations  of  a  durable 
nature,  directed  by  fixed  principles,  with  a  steady  object, 
and  with  that  spirit  of  consistency  which  forms  the  tru€ 
character  of  established  governments.     During  the  course 


CIVILIZATION    IN    BIODERN    EUROPE.  333 

of  the  religious  revolution,  the  foreign  relations  of  states 
had  been  almost  completely  under  the  influence  of  religious 
interests  ;  the  protestant  and  catholic  leagues  had  divided 
Europe  between  them.  It  was  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
under  the  influence  of  the  government  of  Louis  XIV.  that 
diplomacy  changed  its  character.  On  the  one  hand,  it  got 
rid  of  the  exclusive  influence  of  the  religious  principle  ; 
alliances  and  political  combinations  took  place  from  other 
considerations.  At  the  same  time  it  became  much  more 
systematic  an.d  regular,  and  was  always  directed  towards 
a  certain  object,  according  to  permanent  princip-es.  The 
regular  birth  of  the  system  of  the  balance  of  power  in 
Europe,  took  place  at  this  period.  It  was  under  the  gov- 
ernment of  Louis  XIV.  that  this  system,  with  all  the  con- 
siderations attached  to  it,  really  took  possession  of  the 
politics  of  Europe.  "When  we  inquire  what  was,  on  this 
subject,  the  general  idea  or  ruling  principle  of  the  policy 
of  Louis  XIV.,  the  following  seems  to  be  the  result. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  great  struggle  which  took  place  in 
Europe  between  the  pure  monarchy  of  Louis  XIV.,  pre- 
tending to  establish  itself  as  the  universal  system  of  mon- 
archy, and  civil  and  religious  liberty,  and  the  independ- 
ence of  states,  under  the  command  of  the  Prince  of  Or- 
ange, William  III.  You  have  seen  that  the  great  European 
fact,  at  that  epoch,  was  the  division  of  the  powers  of  Eu- 
rope under  these  two  banners.  But  this  fact  was  not  then 
understood  as  I  now  explain  it ;  it  w^as  hidden,  and  un- 
known even  to  those  by  w^hom  it  was  accomplished.  The 
repression  of  the  system  of  pure  monarchy,  and  the  con- 
secration of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  was  necessarily, 
at  bottom,  the  result  of  the  resistance  of  Holland  and  her 
allies  to  Louis  XIV. ;  but  the  question  between  absolute 
power  and  liberty  was  not  then  thus  absolutely  laid  down. 
It  has  been  frequently  said  that  the  propagation  of  abso- 
lute power  was  the  ruling  principle  in  the  diplomacy  of 


334  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Louis  XIV.  I  do  not  think  so.  It  was  at  a  late  period, 
and  in  his  old  age,  that  this  consideration  assumed  a  great 
part  in  his  policy.  The  power  of  France,  her  preponder- 
ance in  Europe,  the  depression  of  rival  powers, — in  short, 
the  political  interest  and  strength  of  the  state,  was  the 
object  which  Louis  XIV.  always  had  in  view,  w^hether  he 
was  contending  against  Spain,  the  Emperor  of  Germany, 
or  England.  He  was  much  less  actuated  by  a  wish  for 
the  propagation  of  absolute  power,  than  by  a  desire  for 
the  aggrandizement  of  France  and  his  own  government. 
Among  many  other  proofs  of  this,  there  is  one  which 
emanates  from  Louis  XIV.  himself.  We  find  in  his  Me- 
moirs, for  the  year  1666,  if  I  remember  rightly,  a  note 
conceived  nearly  in  these  terms  : 

"  This  morning  I  had  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Sidney, 
an  English  gentleman,  who  spoke  to  me  of  the  possibility 
of  reviving  the  republican  party  in  England.  Mr.  Sidney 
asked  me  for  ^£400,000  for  this  purpose.  I  told  him  I 
could  not  give  him  more  than  £200,000.  He  prevailed  on 
me  to  send  to  Switzerland  for  another  English  gentleman, 
called  Mr.  Ludlow,  that  I  might  converse  with  him  upon 
the  same  subject." 

We  find  accordingly,  in  Ludlow's  Memoirs,  about  the 
same  date,  a  paragraph  to  the  following  import : 

"  I  have  received  from  the  French  government  an  invi- 
tation to  go  to  Paris,  to  have  some  discussion  on  the  af- 
fairs of  my  country  ;  but  I  distrust  this  government." 

And,  in  fact,  Ludlow  did  remain  in  Switzerland. 

You  see  that  the  object  of  Louis  XIV.  at  that  time  was  to 
weaken  the  royal  power  of  England.  He  fomented  inter- 
nal dissensions,  he  laboured  to  revive  the  republican  party, 
in  order  to  hinder  Charles  II.  from  becoming  too  powerful 
in  his  own  country.  In  the  course  of  Barillon's  embassy 
to  England,  the  same  fact  is  constantly  apparent.  As  often 
as  the  authority  of  Charles  II.  seems  to   be  gaining  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  335 

ascendency,  and  the  national  party  on  the  point  of  beino- 
overpowered,  the  French  ambassador  turns  his  influ- 
ence in  that  direction,  gives  money  to  the  leaders  of  the 
opposition,  and,  in  short,  contends  against  absolute  power, 
as  soon  as  that  becomes  the  means  of  weakening  a  rival 
of  France.  Whenever  we  attentively  examine  the  con- 
duct of  foreign  relations  under  Louis  XIV.,  this  is  the 
fact  which  we  are  struck  with. 

We  are  also  surprised  at  the  capacity  and  ability  of  the 
French  diplomacy  at  this  period.  The  names  of  Torcy, 
D'Av^aux,  and  Bonrepaus,  are  known  to  all  well-informed 
persons.  When  we  compare  the  despatches,  the  memo- 
rials, the  skill,  the  management  of  these  councillors  of 
Louis  XIV.,  with  those  of  the  Spanish,  Portuguese,  and 
German  negotiators,  we  are  struck  with  the  superiority 
of  the  French  ministers  ;  not  only  with  their  serious  ac- 
tivity and  application  to  business,  but  with  their  freedom 
of  thought.  These  courtiers  of  an  absolute  king  judge  of 
foreign  events,  of  parties,  of  the  demands  for  freedom, 
and  of  popular  revolutions,  much  more  soundly  than  the 
greater  part  of  the  English  themselves  of  that  period. 
There  is  no  diplomacy  in  Europe  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury which  appears  equal  to  the  diplomacy  of  France, 
except  perhaps  that  of  Holland.  The  ministers  of  Jon 
de  WiU  and  William  of  Orange,  those  illustrious  leaders 
of  the  party  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  are  the  only 
ones  who  appear  to  have  been  in  a  condition  to  contend 
with  the  servants  of  the  great  absolute  king. 

You  see,  that,  whether  we  consider  the  wars  of  Louis 
XIV.,  or  his  diplomatic  relations,  we  arrive  at  the  same 
results.  We  can  easily  conceive  how  a  government  which 
conducted  in  such  a  manner  its  wars  and  negotiations, 
must  have  acquired  great  solidity  in  Europe,  and  assumed 
not  only  a  formidable,  but  an  able  and  imposing  aspect. 

Let  us  now  turn  our  eyes  to  the  interior  of  France,  and 


336  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

the  administration  and  legislation  of  Louis  XIV. ;  we 
shall  everywhere  find  new  explanations  of  the  strength 
and  splendour  of  his  government. 

It  is  difficult  to  determine  precisely  what  ought  to  be 
understood  by  administration  in  the  government  of  a 
state.  Still,  when  v/e  endeavour  to  come  to  a  distinct 
understanding  on  this  subject,  we  acknowledge,  I  be- 
lieve, that,  under  the  most  general  point  of  view,  admin- 
istration consists  in  an  assemblage  of  means  destined  to 
transmit,  as  speedily  and  surely  as  possible,  the  will  of 
the  central  power  into  all  departments  of  society,  and, 
under  the  same  conditions,  to  make  the  powers  of  society 
return  to  the  central  power,  either  in  men  or  money. 
This,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  is  the  true  object,  the  prevail- 
ing character,  of  administration.  From  this  we  may  per- 
ceive that,  in  times  where  it  is  especially  necessary  to  es- 
tablish union  and  order  in  society,  administration  is  the 
great  means  of  accomplishing  it, — of  bringing  together, 
cementing  and  uniting  scattered  and  incoherent  elements. 
Such,  in  fact,  was  the  work  of  the  administration  of  Louis 
XIV.  Till  his  time,  nothing  had  been  more  difficult,  in 
France  as  well  as  in  the  rest  of  Europe,  than  to  cause 
the  action  of  the  central  power  to  penetrate  into  all  the 
parts  of  society,  and  to  concentrate  into  the  heart  of  the 
central  power  the  means  of  strength  possessed  by  the  so- 
ciety at  large.  This  was  the  object  of  Louis's  endeavours, 
and  he  succeeded  in  it  to  a  certain  extent,  incomparably 
better,  at  least,  than  preceding  governments  had  done. 
I  cannot  enter  into  any  details;  but  take  a  survey  of 
every  kind  of  public  service,  the  taxes,  the  highways,  in- 
dustry, the  military  administration,  and  the  various  estab- 
lishments which  belong  to  any  branch  of  administration 
whatever  ;  there  is  hardly  any  of  them  which  you  will  not 
find  to  have  either  been  originated,  developed,  or  greatly 
meliorated,   under   the   reign  of    Louis   XIV.       It  was 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  337 

as  administrators  that  the  greatest  men  of  his  time,  such 
as  Colbert  and  Louvois,  displayed  their  genius  and  exer- 
cised their  ministerial  functions.  It  was  thus  that  his  go- 
vernment acquired  a  comprehensiveness,  a  decision  and  a 
consistency,  which  were  wanting  in  all  the  European 
governments  around  him. 

The  same  fact  holds  with  respect  to  this  government, 
as  regards  its  legislative  capacity.  I  will  again  refer  to 
the  comparison  I  made  in  the  outset  to  the  legislative  ac- 
tivity of  the  Consular  government,  and  its  prodigious 
labour  in  revising  and  remodelling  the  laws.  A  labour  of 
the  same  kind  was  undertaken  under  Louis  XIV.  The 
great  ordinances  which  he  passed  and  promulgated, — the 
ordinances  on  the  criminal  law,  on  forms  of  procedure, 
on  commerce,  on  the  navy,  on  waters  and  forests, — are 
real  codes  of  law,  which  Avere  constructed  in  the  same 
manner  as  our  codes,  having  been  discussed  in  the  Coun- 
cil of  State,  sometimes  under  the  presidency  of  Lamoig- 
non.  There  are  men  whose  glory  it  is  to  have  taken  a 
share  in  this  labour  and  those  discussions, — M.  Pussort, 
for  example.  If  we  had  to  consider  it  simply  in  itself, 
w^e  should  have  a  great  deal  to  say  against  the  legislation 
of  Louis  XIV.  It  is  full  of  faults  which  are  now  evident, 
and  which  nobody  can  dispute  j  it  was  not  conceived  in 
the  spirit  of  justice  and  true  liberty,  but  with  a  view  to 
public  order,  and  to  give  regularity  and  stability  to  the 
laws.  But  even  that  alone  was  a  great  progress  ;  and  it 
cannot  be  doubted  that  the  legislative  acts  of  Louis  XIV., 
very  superior  to  the  previous  state  of  legislation,  power- 
fully contributed  to  the  advancement  of  French  society 
in  the  career  of  civilization. 

Under  whatever  point  of  view,  then,  we  regard  this 
government,  we  can  at  once  discover  the  means  of  its 
strength  and  influence.  It  was,  in  truth,  the  first  govern- 
ment which  presented  itself  to  the  eyes  of  Europe  as  a 

29 


338  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

power  sure  of  its  position,  which  had  not  to  dispute  for 
its  existence  Avith  domestic  enemies,  which  was  tranquil 
in  regard  to  its  territory  and  its  people,  and  had  nothing 
to  think  of  but  the  care  of  governing.  Till  then,  all  the 
European  governments  had  been  incessantly  plunged  into 
wars  which  deprived  them  of  security  as  well  as  leisure, 
or  so  assailed  by  parties  and  enemies  at  home,  that  they 
passed  their  time  in  fighting  for  their  existence.  The 
government  of  Louis  XIV.  appeared  to  be  the  first  that 
was  engaged  solely  in  managing  its  affairs  like  a  power 
at  once  definitive  and  progressive,  which  was  not  afraid 
of  making  innovations,  because  it  reckoned  upon  the  fu- 
ture. In  fact,  few  governments  have  been  more  given  to 
innovation.  Compare  it  with  a  government  of  the  same 
nature,  with  the  pure  monarchy  of  Philip  II.  in  Spain, 
which  was  more  absolute  than  that  of  Louis  XIV.,  and 
yet  was  less  regular  and  tranquil.  How  did  Philip  IL 
succeed  in  establishing  absolute  power  in  Spain  ]  By 
stifling  every  kind  of  activity  in  the  country  ;  by  refus- 
ing his  sanction  to  every  kind  of  improvement,  and  thus 
rendering  the  state  of  Spain  completely  stationary.  The 
government  of  Louis  XIV.,  on  the  contrary,  was  active 
in  every  kind  of  innovation,  and  favourable  to  the  pro- 
gress of  letters,  arts,  riches — favourable,  in  a  word,  to 
civilization.  These  were  the  true  causes  of  its  prepon- 
derance in  Europe — a  preponderance  so  great,  that  it  was, 
on  the  Continent,  during  the  seventeenth  centurjr,  not 
only  for  sovereigns,  but  even  for  nations,  the  type  and 
model  of  governments.  , 

It  is  frequently  asked,  and  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  ask- 
ing, how  a  power  so  splendid  and  well  established — to 
judge  from  the  circumstances  I  have  pointed  out  to  you, 
should  have  fallen  so  quickly  into  a  state  of  decay'?  how, 
after  having  played  so  great  a  part  in  Europe,  it  became, 
in  the  following  century,  so  inconsiderable,  so  weak,  and 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  339 

SO  little  respected  %  The  fact  is  undeniable  :  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  the  French  government  stood  at  the  head 
of  European  civilization.  In  the  eighteenth  century  it 
disappeared  ;  it  was  the  society  of  France,  separated  from 
its  government,  and  often  in  a  hostile  position  towards  it, 
which  led  the  way  and  guided  the  progress  of  the  Euro- 
pean world. 

It  is  here  that  we  discover  the  incorrigible  vice  and  in- 
fallible effect  of  absolute  power.    I  shall  not  enter  into  any 
detail  respecting  the  faults  of  the  government  of  Louis 
XIV.  ;  and   there    were    great  ones.     I    shall  not  speak  . 
either  of  the  war  of  the  succession  in  Spain,  or  the  revo- 
cation of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  or  the  excessive  expendi- 
ture, or  many  other  fatal  measures  which  affected  its  char- 
acter.    I  will  take  the  merits  of  the  government,  such  as 
I  have  described  them.     I  will  admit  that,  probably,  there 
never  was  an  absolute  power  more  completely  acknowledg- 
ed, by  its  age  and  nation,  or  which  has  rendered  more  real 
services  to    the  civilization  of  its  country  as  well  as  to 
Europe  in  general.     It  followed,  indeed,   from  the  single 
circumstance,  that  this  government  had  no  other  principle 
than  absolute  power,  and  rested  entirely  on  this  basis,  that 
its  decay  was  so  sudden  and  deserved.     What  was  essen- 
tially wanting  to  France  in  Louis  XIV.'s  time  was  institu- 
tions, political  powers,  which  were  independent  and  self- 
existent,  capable,  in  short,  of  spontaneous  action  and  re- 
sistance. The  ancient  French  institutions,  if  they  deserve 
the  name,  no  longer  subsisted  ;  Louis  XIV.  completed 
their  destruction.     He  took  care  not  to  replace  them  by 
new  institutions  ;  they  would  have  constrained  him,  and  he 
did  not  choose   constraint.     The   will  and  action  of  the 
central   power  were  all  that   appeared  with  splendour  at 
that    epoch.      The    government    of    Louis    XIV.    is    a 
great    fact;    a   powerful    and   brilliant    fact,  but    it   was 
built  upon  sand.     Free  institutions  are  a  guarantee,  not 


340  GENERAL    HISTORY   OF 

only  for  the  prudence  of  governments,  but  also  for 
their  stability.  No  system  can  endure  otherwise  than  by 
institutions.  Wherever  absolute  power  has  been  perma- 
nent, it  has  been  based  upon,  and  supported  by,  real  institu- 
tions ;  sometimes  by  the  division  of  society  into  castes, 
distinctly  separated,  and  sometimes  by  a  system  of  reli- 
gious institutions.  Under  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  power, 
as  well  as  liberty,  needed  institutions.  There  was  nothing 
in  France,  at  that  time,  to  protect  either  the  country  from 
the  illegitimate  action  of  the  government,  or  the  govern- 
ment itself  against  the  inevitable  action  of  time.  Thus, 
we  behold  the  government  assisting  its  own  decay.  It 
was  not  Louis  XIV.  only,  who  grew  old,  and  became 
feeble,  at  the  end  of  his  reign,  it  was  the  whole  system  of 
absolute  power.  Pure  monarchy  was  as  much  worn  out 
in  1712,  as  the  monarch  himself.  And  the  evil  was  so 
much  the  more  serious,  that  Louis  XIV.  had  destroyed 
political  habits  as  well  as  political  institutions.  There  can 
be  no  political  habits  without  independence.  He  only  who 
feels  that  he  is  strong  in  himself,  is  always  capable  either 
of  serving  the  ruling  power,  or  of  contending  with  it.  En- 
ergetic characters  disappear  along  with  independent  situa- 
tions, and  a  free  and  high  spirit  arises  from  the  security  of 
rights. 

We  may,  then,  describe  in  the  following  terms,  the  state 
in  which  the  French  nation,  and  the  power  of  the  govern- 
ment were  left  by  Louis  XIV. :  in  society  there  was  a 
great  development  of  wealth,  strength,  and  intellectual  ac- 
tivity of  every  kind  ;  and,  along  with  this  progressive  socie- 
ty, there  was  a  government  essentially  stationary,  and  with- 
out means  to  adapt  itself  to  the  movement  of  the  people  ; 
devoted,  after  half  a  century  of  great  splendour,  to  immo- 
bility and  weakness,  and  already  fallen,  even  in  the  lifetime 
of  its  founder,  into  a  decay  almost  resembling  dissolution. 
Such  was  the  situation  of  France  at  the  expiration  of  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  341 

seventeenth  century,  and  which  impressed  upon  the  subse- 
quent period  so  different  a  direction  and  character. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  remark  that  a  great 
movement  of  the  human  mind,  that  a  spirit  of  free  inquiry, 
was  the  predominant  feature,  the  essential  fact  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  You  have  already  heard  from  this  chair  a 
great  deal  on  this  topic;  you  have  already  heard  this 
momentous  period  characterized,  by  the  voices  of  a  phi- 
losophic orator  and  an  eloquent  philosopher.*  I  cannot 
pretend,  in  the  small  space  of  time  which  remains  to  me, 
to  follow  all  the  phases  of  the  great  revolution  which  was 
then  accomplished  ;  neither,  however,  can  I  leave  you 
without  calling  your  attention  to  some  of  its  features 
which  perhaps  have  been  too  little  remarked. 

The  first,  which  occurs  to  me  in  the  outset,  and  which, 
indeed,  I  have  already  pointed  out,  is  the  almost  entire 
disappearance  (so  to  speak)  of  the  government  in  the 
course  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  the  appearance  of 
the  human  mind  as  the  principal  and  almost  sole  actor. 
Excepting  in  what  concerned  foreign  relations,  under  the 
ministry  of  the  Duke  de  Choiseul,  and  in  some  great  con- 
cessions made  to  the  general  bent  of  the  public  mind,  in 
the  American  war.  for  example  ; — excepting,  I  say,  in 
some  events  of  this  kind,  there  perhaps  never  was  a  gov- 
ernment so  inactive,  apathetic,  and  inert,  as  the  French 
government  of  that  time.  In  place  of  the  ambitious  and 
active  government  of  Louis  XIV.,  which  was  everywhere, 
and  at  the  head  of  every  thing,  you  hav^e  a  power  whose 
only  endeavour,  so  much  did  it  tremble  for  its  own  safety, 
was  to  slink  from  public  view — to  hide  itself  from  danger. 
It  was  the  nation  which,  by  its  intellectual  movement,  in- 
terfered with  every  thing,  and  alone  possessed  moral  au- 
thority, the  only  real  authority, 

*  The  lectures  of  Villemain  and  Cousin. 
29* 


342  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

A  second  characteristic  which  strikes  me  in  the  state 
of  the  human  mind  in  the  eighteenth  century,  is  the  univer- 
sality of  the  spirit  of  free  inquiry.  Till  then,  and  particu- 
larly in  the  sixteenth  century,  free  inquiry  had  been  exer- 
cised in  a  very  limited  field  ;  its  object  had  been  sometimes 
religious  questions,  and  sometimes  religious  and  political 
questions  conjoined ;  but  its  pretensions  did  not  extend 
much  further.  In  the  eighteenth  century,  on  the  con- 
trary, free  inquiry  became  universal  in  its  character  and 
objects :  religion,  politics,  pure  philosophy,  man  and  so- 
ciety, moral  and  physical  science — everything  became,  at 
once,  the  subject  of  study,  doubt,  and  system;  the  ancient 
sciences  were  overturned ;  new  sciences  sprang  up.  It 
was  a  movement  which  proceeded  in  every  direction, 
though  emanating  from  one  and  the  same  impulse. 

This  movement,  moreover,  had  one  peculiarity,  which 
perhaps  can  be  met  with  at  no  other  time  in  the  history  of 
the  world ;  that  of  being  purely  speculative.  Until  that 
time,  in  all  great  human  revolutions,  action  had  promptly 
mingled  itself  with  speculation.  Thus,  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  the  religious  revolution  had  begun  by  ideas  and 
discussions  purely  intellectual ;  but  it  had,  almost  imme- 
diately, led  to  events.  The  leaders  of  the  intellectual  par- 
ties had  very  speedily  become  leaders  of  political  parties  ; 
the  realities  of  life  had  mingled  with  the  workings  of  the 
intellect.  The  same  thing  had  been  the  case,  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  in  the  English  revolution.  In  France,  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  we- see  the  human  mind  exercising 
itself  upon  all  subjects,— upon  ideas  which,  from  their  con- 
nexion with  the  real  interests  of  life,  necessarily  had  the 
most  prompt  and  powerful  influence  upon  events.  And  yet 
the  promoters  of,  and  partakers  in,  these  great  discussions, 
continued  to  be  strangers  to  every  kind  of  practical  activity^ 
pure  speculators,  who  observed,  judged,  and  spoke  without 
ever  proceeding  to  practice.     There  never  was  a  period 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  34-3 

in  which  the  government  of  facts,  and  external  realities,  was 
SO  completely  distinct  from  the  government  of  thought. 
The  separation  of  spiritual  from  temporal  affairs  has  never 
been  real  in  Europe,  except  in  the  eighteenth  century.  For 
the  first  time,  perhaps,  the  spiritual  world  developed  itself 
quite  separately  from  the  temporal  world ;  a  fact  of  the 
greatest  importance,  and  which  had  a  great  influence  on  the 
course  of  events.  It  gave  a  singular  character  of  pride 
and  inexperience  to  the  mode  of  thinking  of  the  time : 
philosophy  was  never  more  ambitious  of  governing  the 
world,  and  never  more  completely  failed  in  its  object. 
This  necessarily  led  to  results  ;  the  intellectual  movement 
necessarily  gave,  at  last,  an  impulse  to  external  events ; 
and,  as  they  had  been  totally  separated,  their  meeting  was 
so  much  the  more  difficult,  and  their  collision  so  much 
the  more  violent. 

We  can  hardly  now  be  surprised  at  another  character  of 
the  human  mind  at  this  epoch,  I  mean  its  extreme  bold- 
ness. Prior  to  this,  its  greatest  activity  had  always  been 
restrained  by  certain  barriers ;  man  had  lived  in  the  midst 
of  facts,  some  of  which  inspired  him  with  caution,  and 
repressed,  to  a  certain  degree,  his  tendency  to  movement. 
In  the  eighteenth  century,  I  should  really  be  at  a  loss  to 
say  what  external  facts  were  respected  by  the  human 
mind,  or  exercised  any  influence  over  it ;  it  entertained 
nothing  but  hatred  or  contempt  for  the  whole  social  sys- 
tem ;  it  considered  itself  called  upon  to  reform  all  things; 
it  looked  upon  itself  as  a  sort  of  creator  ;  institutions, 
opinions,  manners,  society,  even  man  himself, — all  seemed 
to  require  to  be  re-modelled,  and  human  reason  undertook 
the  task.  Whenever,  before,  had  the  human  mind  dis- 
played such  daring  boldness  1 

Such,  then,  was  the  power  which,  in  the  course  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  was  confronted  with  what  remained 
of  the  government  of  Louis  XIV.     It  is  clear  to  us  all  that 


344  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

a  collision  between  these  two  unequal  forces  was  una- 
voidable. The  leading  fact  of  the  English  revolution,  the 
struggle  between  free  inquiry  and  pure  monarchy,  was 
therefore  sure  to  be  repeated  in  France.  The  diiferences 
between  the  two  cases,  undoubtedly,  were  great,  and  ne- 
cessarily perpetuated  themselves  in  the  results  of  each  ; 
but,  at  bottom,  the  general  situation  of  both  was  similar, 
and  the  event,  itself,  must  be  explained  in  the  same 
manner. 

I  by  no  means  intend  to  exhibit  the  infinite  consequen- 
ces of  this  collision  in  France.  I  am  drawing  towards  the 
close  of  this  course  of  lectures  ;  and  must  hasten  to  con- 
clude. I  wish,  however,  before  quitting  you,  to  call  your 
attention  to  the  gravest,  and,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  in- 
structive fact  which  this  great  spectacle  has  revealed  to 
us.  It  is  the  danger,  the  evil,  the  insurmountable  vice  of 
absolute  power,  wheresoever  it  may  exist,  whatsoever 
name  it  may  bear,  and  for  whatever  object  it  may  be  ex- 
ercised. We  have  seen  that  the  government  of  Louis 
XIV.  perished  almost  from  this  single  cause.  The  power 
which  succeeded  it,  the  human  mind,  the  real  sovereign 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  underwent  the  same  fate  j  in 
its  turn,  it  possessed  almost  absolute  power,  in  its  turn, 
its  confidence  in  itself  became  excessive-*  Its  movement 
was  noble,  good,  and  useful ;  and,  were  it  necessary  for 
me  to  give  a  general  opinion  on  the  subject,  I  should 
readily  say  that  the  eighteenth  century  appears  to  me 
one  of  the  grandest  epochs  in  the  history  of  the  world, 
that  perhaps  which  has  done  the  greatest  service  to  man- 
kind, and  has  produced  the  greatest  and  most  general  im- 
provement. If  I  Vv'ere  called  upon,  however,  to  pass  judg- 
ment upon  its  ministry  (if  I  may  use  such  an  expression), 
I  should  pronounce  sentence  in  its  favour.  It  is  not  the 
less  true,  however,  that  the  absolute  power  exercised  at 
this  period  by  the  human  mind,  corrupted  it,  and  that  it 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  34-5 

entertained  an  illegitimate  aversion  to  the  subsisting  state 
of  things,  and  to  all  opinions  which  differed  from  the  pre- 
vailing one  ; — an  aversion  which  led  to  error  and  tyranny. 
The  proportion  of  error  and  tyranny,  indeed,  which 
mingled  itself  in  the  triumph  of  human  reason  at  the 
end  of  the  century — a  proportion,  the  greatness  of  which 
cannot  be  dissembled,  and  which  ought  to  be  exposed 
instead  of  being  passed  over — this  infusion  of  error 
and  tj'ranny,  I  say,  was  a  consequence  of  the  delusion 
into  which  the  human  mind  was  led  at  that  period  by 
the  extent  of  its  power.  It  is  the  duty,  and  will  be,  I 
believe,  the  peculiar  event  of  our  time,  to  acknowledge 
that  all  power,  whether  intellectual  or  temporal,  whether 
belonging  to  governments  or  people,  to  philosophers  or 
ministers,  in  whatever  cause  it  may  be  exercised — that  all 
human  power,  I  say,  bears  within  itself  a  natural  vice,  a 
principle  of  feebleness  and  abuse,  which  renders  it  neces- 
sary that  it  should  be  limited.  Now,  there  is  nothing  but 
the  general  freedom  of  every  right,  interest,  and  opinion, 
the  free  manifestation  and  legal  existence  of  all  these 
forces — there  is  nothing,  I  say,  but  a  system  which  ensures 
all  this,  can  restrain  every  particular  force  or  power  with- 
in its  legitimate  bounds,  and  prevent  it  from  encroaching 
on  the  others,  so  as  to  produce  the  real  and  beneficial 
subsistence  of  free  inquiry.  For  us,  this  is  the  great  re- 
sult, the  great  moral  of  the  struggle  which  took  place  at 
the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  between  what  may  be 
called  temporal  absolute  power  and  spiritual  absolute 
power. 

I  am  now  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  task  which  I  under- 
took. You  will  rememb-gr,  that,  i-n  bigma'irygjthisj  course, 
I  stated  that  my  object  wa«  to- give  you  a  general' vie v/-  of 
the  development  of  Europe?vn  pivilizatiQ^^frQipitbe.f^ll  of 
the  Roman  Empire  to  ithje^'pce'sep.i  timei.-.  j  hnve:  passed 
very  rapidly  over  this  long  career  j  so  rapidly  that  it  has 


346  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    CIVILIZATION. 

been  quite  out  of  my  power  even  to  touch  upon  every- 
thing of  importance,  or  to  bring  proofs  of  those  facts  to 
which  I  have  drawn  your  attention.  I  hope,  however, 
that  I  have  attained  my  end,  which  was  to  mark  the  great 
epochs  of  the  development  of  modern  society.  Allow  me 
to  add  a  word  more.  I  endeavoured,  at  the  outset,  to 
define  civilization,  to  describe  the  fact  which  bears  that 
name.  Civilization  appeared  to  me  to  consist  of  two 
principal  facts,  the  development  of  human  society  and 
that  of  man  himself ;  on  the  one  hand,  his  political  and 
social,  and  on  the  other,  his  internal  and  moral,  advance- 
ment. This  year  I  have  confined  myself  to  the  history 
of  society.  I  have  exhibited  civilization  only  in  its  social 
point  of  view.  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  development 
of  man  himself.  I  have  made  no  attempt  to  give  you  the 
history  of  opinions, — of  the  moral  progress  of  human 
nature.  I  intend,  when  we  meet  again  here,  next  season, 
to  confine  myself  especially  to  France  ;  to  study  with  you 
the  history  of  French  civilization,  but  to  study  it  in  detail 
and  under  its  various  aspects.  I  shall  try  to  make  you 
acquainted  not  only  with  the  history  of  society  in  France, 
but  also  with  that  of  man ;  to  follow,  along  with  you,  the 
progress  of  institutions,  opinions,  and  intellectual  labours 
of  every  sort,  and  thus  to  arrive  at  a  comprehension  of 
what  has  been,  in  the  most  complete  and  general  sense, 
the  development  of  our  glorious  country.  In  the  past,  as 
well  as  in  the  future,  she  has  a  right  to  our  warmest  affec- 
tions. 


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